School Life
by LadyKailitha
Summary: A teen!lock adventure based on the original ACD short story the Silver Blaze. This is my first real attempt at making a chaptered story. I hope you guys enjoy.
1. Prologue: End of the Life They Knew

The short stocky youth trudged his way home. He hated his school and was glad that tomorrow was his last day before summer vacation, his exams were done and tomorrow was the handing out of grades for this year and schedules for next. He dreaded tomorrow with a passion.

He stopped at the mail box and rummaged through it as he walked up to his house. There sandwiched between the power bill and water bill was one addressed to one John H. Watson, from Westminster Private Academy.

He ran up to the house yelling, "Mom! Dad! My letter came! Mom!" A blurry eyed girl came out of her room.

"Mom and dad are out. It's their anniversary, remember?" Harry said as she rubbed her eyes. John sighed crestfallen. How could have he forgotten? Damn.

"So what's this about a letter?" Harry asked punching his arm.

"Oh! I got my letter from that private school I applied for back in March."

She reached out her and wiggled her fingers. "Give me here, then." She knew him too well. He was too excited to open it himself and besides, what if it was bad news, what if it was his rejection letter.

"Like they'd reject you, John. You're the best rugby player this century, they'd be fools."

"I guess I'm more worried about the scholarship than anything," John admitted. Harry nodded as she meticulously opened the envelope. She pulled it and and read the first few lines.

"Dear Mr Watson,

We have looked over your application. Your grades are good and your transcript highly befitting a place here at Westminster Private Academy.

We are pleased to offer you a full scholarship to our prestigious school, in rugby_. _

At our school you will be expected to be up to standard in dress and manner. As you are a scholarship student accounts will be set up for you at certain establishments to buy your school things.

We hope to see you come 1st Sept.

Sincerely,

Mrs. Abigail Hudson

Dean"

"And then there's a list of things they want to have with you. As well the places they want you to buy them at. I've heard of a couple of them. They're really expensive."

John could hardly contain himself. He not only got in, he got a full ride, which paid for everything! Books, uniforms, all equipment he'd need for the next three years. He hugged his sister.

"Harry this fantastic!" She patted him awkwardly.

"Right. Now don't you go calling mom and dad." Her face as stern. "It's their night. You are not going to interrupt it with _your_ news." John pouted but did as he was told. So instead he called his best mate.

"Hello?" came the bored tone on the other end.

"Well hello to you too, Mike." John sniped. Mike Stamford and him had been best mates since they were kids.

"Oh hey John. What's up, mate?" His voice was a little less bored.

"You're an ass you know that?" John needled and Mike laughed on the other end. "I got my acceptance letter from WPA today." John counted to five and then held the phone away from his ear.

"WHAT?" Mike screamed. John squinted from the bellow. Even away from his ear, the sound still hurt.

"Yep. I'm in and not only that, full ride baby!"

"Man! That is beyond awesome. You'll have your pick of schools once you graduate. So jealous."

John laughed. "Come on man, your parents are going to send to St. Mary's. _In London!_" John reminded him.

"I know but it's not the same as WPA. That is like the best in the country." John smiled. Mike was right of course but he had to at least attempt to cheer him up.

They talked for a bit and then he hung up. Thinking about for a bit, he called up Sarah.

"Hey Sare. Can you meet me at Speedy's? There's something I want tell you."

"Oh hey, sure. I'll see you in an hour?"

"Works for me." John hung up and went go get a shower.

Once he'd showered and shaved, he went and poked his head into his sister's room.

"Hey going to meet Sare at Speedy's for dinner, that okay?" She waved him off and waved good-bye.

He took a deep breath and opened the front door. He had no idea what was going to happen. Him and Sarah Sawyer had been dating for about a year and he wondered how she was going to react to his news.

He got to Speedy's and she already there. He sighed and walked in. They kissed their hellos.

"Hey babe." He said as he slid into the seat across from her.

"Hey, so what's this about?" She asked and picked up the menu. After they had ordered John turned to her.

"So I got a letter from Westminster Private Academy today…" her eyes bulged. "Yeah. I got accepted, full ride scholarship too." He could barely keep the excitement out of his voice.

"That's… um…" she didn't know how to react. He would be leaving in eight weeks and then she wouldn't see him again until Christmas. She wasn't sure how _he_ wanted her to react.

"Oh, come on Sare. It might not be that bad…" John hedged.

"Is this a school for boys?" she asked.

"Oh. Well… no." John blushed. He hadn't really thought about it that way. "Sorry, Sare. I guess it's best if we break it off, huh?"

She sighed. He had a point. Wasn't it better to end it now while they were still friends, instead of waiting until one of them fell for someone else and hurt the other?

"Yeah." Her food arrived and she pushed it away. She sighed.

"Hey," he took her chin his hand. She looked up at him her brown eyes meeting his dark blue ones.

"I know it's hard but think of it this way, maybe you'll find someone taller then you, so you can finally wear those fancy red stilettos you've been eyeing for months." That got a laugh out of her.

"You aren't that short, John."

"Sure I am. But I don't mind. It just mean that I take out the taller guys with a well placed head butt." She laughed harder. She hadn't had many break ups in her fourteen years but this one was definitely the most amiable.

She ate her salad and he ate his sandwich and they chatted. John looked at his watch and swore.

"Shit! Sorry Sare. My parents are going to get home any minute and if I'm not home they are going to kick my ass." He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Thanks for being so stellar about this. Love you!" He grabbed his wallet and tossed a few pounds, enough to cover both of them, then was out the door.

He had barely paused outside his bedroom door panting when his parents pulled up. They were happy and mom was a bit tipsy. And he decided to wait until tomorrow to tell them.

They were so happy for him. His mom offered to take him the next day to buy all his stuff and he readily agreed.

Yesterday before he got home he had been looking at to a decent summer with a terrible year ahead of him. Now he was looking forward to fantastic summer and an even better school year.

* * *

The dark haired youth stared down his brother, his arms crossed in front of his lean chest.

"I don't care what you say, Mycroft. I'm not going back to that… that… _hell hole_!" He spat.

"You don't have a choice. All the other schools you've been kicked out of or your reputation as a troublemaker has proceeded you. You wouldn't believe the amount of money father had to shell out to get them to even _think _about letting you come back."

"They all hate me. The teachers especially." Sherlock pouted.

"Well if you didn't tell them who was shagging who all the time, they might like you a little more."

Sherlock scoffed. "They'd hate even if I didn't deduce every little they did from breakfast to shagging the hell out of each other."

"Language!" Mycroft admonished.

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"I'm far too clever for their _dull_ classes and they hate it."

"You know full well you could have tested out and gone to college this year like I did."

Sherlock huffed. "Yes but that's what _you_ did. If I did that no one would care because _you_ did first. Not like anyone cares what I do anyway." Sherlock stalked off.

He didn't tell Mycroft the real reason he loathed going back. His roommate was a Neanderthal football player homophobe who had decided with no evidence at all that Sherlock must be gay and had made his life a living hell. He didn't want to back to sheet shifting, the dung in his school bags, and whatever else entered the vapid brain of his.

He had been the first one to call him 'freak'. And now the name had stuck. He sighed. There was just no help for it. He would have to spend the next three years in hell. And then he could escape to college. Away from father and Mycroft and all the idiots at school.

Until then he would have to suffer in silence. He looked at his precious coat and knew he wouldn't be able to take it with him. Who knew what they'd do to something he prized as much as he did that coat. It was a little too big for him now but it suited him down the ground.

It was a dark grey, almost charcoal wool great coat that his father bought him last Christmas. He said he bought it a little big so that his constantly growing youngest could have it for a couple years at least.

Sherlock was already 5'10 at fourteen and could tell that wasn't finished growing yet. He doubted he would be as tall as Mycroft but 6' even would be fantastic. That way he fit in his coat and not grow out of it. Yes that would ideal.

But he was aware that the world didn't work that way. That it was hard and cruel and caring most definitely was NOT an advantage.

He pulled out his violin. Another thing he would have to leave behind. He would have to borrow one the school's inferior objects to protect his other prized possession. His mother's violin.

She had taught him as soon as he learned to walk. It was the only thing that helped him think. He tightened his bow and placed it on the strings and mournful sighed came from it. He bent his head over his instrument and the violin moved on its own accord to Elegy by Faure. The sound was sorrowful and all those that heard it wept with the young man who played it. Even a single tear slipped down the cheek of the young government man. The next eight weeks would slip by so fast.

**A/N: I changed the ending a bit after seeing the song played here watch?v=8tj3RtdXORM. I don't play and I asked my resident violinist for a sad piece and he gave me this one. I didn't realize how heartbreaking it was until I heard it and I felt I had to change the end to reflect its beauty.**


	2. Showing the New Boy Around

Sherlock sighed as he listened to the dean drone on about how he couldn't continue his bad behavior. Finally she said something that peaked his interest.

"And such you will be showing the new boy around. You will be his sponsor. If he gets into any trouble it will be on your head as well. Maybe in taking care of someone else you will learn that this attitude of yours is simply unacceptable."

Sherlock tried to protest but she cut him off with a wave of her hand. "This is your last chance Sherlock. If you screw up this time there is no money on this green earth that will convince me to keep you on. Is that clear?" Sherlock nodded.

"Good. Sherlock…" he looked up at her. "I know being a teenage genius is hard but really can't you try to at least make one friend?"

Sherlock nodded and got up to leave. "He should be outside waiting for you."

"Thank you Mrs. Hudson."

"You're welcome dear."

Sherlock opened the door and standing against the wall was a short blonde haired boy, his blue eyes sparkled with mischief. He actually made the awful school uniform look decent.

"Hello, I'm Sherlock Holmes. I'm to be your sponsor." He didn't bother holding out his hand, no liked shaking hands with him and this boy would be no different.

"Oh hi! I'm John Watson. I didn't think they had sponsors here." He said as he grabbed his bag and hefted it over shoulder.

"They don't normally. But apparently you're special." Sherlock didn't want to talk about how it more about him than this John fellow.

"Nah. It's probably that you're special. I'm just an ordinary rugby player."

"Well you couldn't be too ordinary if you're here." Sherlock wondered why he sought to defend the boy. What was wrong with him? It wasn't as though they would be friends. Once the sponsorship was over with he would be calling him freak and teasing him like everyone else.

"I suppose so. So where to first oh mighty sponsor?" Sherlock laughed.

"This way." He led his way out of the offices and out to the grounds. John looked around and the look of wonder never left his face.

"This nothing like my old school. It was a hole in the building that was pretty much falling down around our ears."

Sherlock shrugged and led the way around the building. He pointed out the gardens and the conservatories. "The gardens are open to all students but the conservatories are for students taking botany. They don't teach you about poisons, so… _dull_." John's eye went wide and then he started to laugh.

Sherlock frowned. "I was serious."

"I know. That's what makes it so funny." Soon Sherlock was laughing with him.

_Stop it! He isn't your friend Sherlock. You don't have _friends! Sherlock fought down the emotions that this boy brought to surface. He was mostly successful.

"The fountain of our prestige founder… blah, blah, blah…" Sherlock intoned as they crossed the large field.

"Most kids spend their time out here on warm days."

"And where do you spend your time?" John asked.

_Why are you interested? Once you find out I'm the "Freak" you'll run just like everyone else._

"The library." Sherlock found himself answering against his own will.

"Also not a surprise. You don't seem like the sort that would lie in the grass in the sun."

Sherlock glanced sidelong at the other boy. He didn't _appear _to be like the other boys but he knew how looks could be deceiving. Sighing inwardly he veered to the left.

"This hall is where our classes are. I show you more in depth tomorrow. _When we actually have class._" Sherlock enunciated the line as though he was talking to a small child.

John laughed. "Fair enough." Sherlock was starting to get addicted to that sound.

He moved around the building and to the stables.

"Next to the library, this is my favorite place to be." He pulled some sugar cubes out of his pocket and walked over to the fence. A dark stallion with a silver blaze and socks came bounding up to to him. Sherlock fed him the sugar and patted the side of the beast's neck.

"He's beautiful." John murmured in awe. He paused to wonder if he meant the horse or the boy.

"His name is Silver Blaze. Not very original but it suits him." Sherlock explained.

"If you don't know how to ride do they teach you here?" Sherlock looked over at him.

"I could teach you." Sherlock blurted out before he could stop himself. _What is wrong with you? It's almost as if you are trying to come up with reasons to be with this boy. _

"Really? That would be fantastic. Thanks!" John clapped him on the back and Sherlock stumbled forward in surprise.

"Right, let's move on shall we?" But he couldn't stop the warm fuzzy feeling that erupted in the pit of his stomach.

"There are three dorms. Each one is named after a district in London. Belgravia, which is the girls' dorm. Marylebone and Victoria for the boys. Which one are you in?"

John dug out his schedule. "Um… let's see… Marylebone."

Sherlock's heart did a little flutter. _Stop that!_ Sherlock admonished himself. _So what if you are in the same dorm? Doesn't mean you get to see him that often._

"Oh. That's the one I'm in too. Let's go there first so you can put your stuff away and then I'll show you the rest."

"Fantastic." John said and flashed the taller boy his best smile. Sherlock led the way to the middle dorm.

They entered through the front. "Ground floor is kitchen, which you can go a make snacks from home or for breakfast, lunch and dinner the staff will make you meals. It's served buffet style in the dinning room. There is also a TV room and rec room, that has games of some sort."

"What kind of games?" John asked but Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Oh right. You don't in there."

"Too noisy. Can't stand it." Sherlock rolled his eyes again. "Each floor is named after a street from the district from which the dorm is named. Which is your floor?" Sherlock inhaled a breath.

"Hmm… Baker St?" John looked at the paper again. Sherlock's eyes went wide. _No. Don't hope. You know what happens when you hope. They get dashed. _

"Second floor then." They climbed the steps to the second floor. "Each floor has fifty rooms. Number in hundred series. First floor 101-125, second floor 201-225, third floor 301-325."

"I thought you said there are 50 rooms per level?" John asked as they reached their floor.

"This is where is gets stupid. The east side is A and the west side is B. So you get the ridiculous 221B Baker St. as your room number."

"Hey how did you know?" John asked surprised.

"How did I know what?" Sherlock knew lots of things but he was confused over this one.

"That that was my room number?" John asked excitedly.

"I didn't. That's my room number. But I already have a roommate."

"Yeah me!" John beamed. Sherlock's eyes went wide. No more Neanderthal jackass harming his stuff, he could send for his violin and coat. He could sleep instead of keeping an eye on his room. _Stop there Holmes. You don't know that for sure. Remember, don't get your hopes up. He could still be like the rest. _

"Well let's get your stuff put away then." Sherlock drawled, his voice devoid of emotion.

Sherlock led the way down the hall, to 221B.

"Are all the dorms like this?" John asked, as he set his stuff down on the non cluttered bed.

"Pretty much. I haven't really been to the other dorms."

"So all your friends are on the Marylebone block then?" John asked as he unpacked.

"John. It's time you learned the universal truth here. I don't have friends people don't like me. They call me the 'Freak'. We won't be friends. We are merely sharing a space for the next three years."

"Why do they call you the 'Freak'?"

"Because I'm more intelligent than they are and it drives them mad."

"Right and let me guess, humility is your finest virtue." John teased as he put his stuff in the drawers.

Sherlock took a deep breath. "I know that despite the new clothes that you come from a middle income home. Which means your a scholarship kid. You said rugby earlier. So a rugby scholarship. To get in here you have to be more than just a good player. Probably one of the best in the country in your division. Also you're a fairly good student, your books are all high level. So not just some dumb jock. You have an older sibling you miss but you don't approve of her habits. Your father is army, most likely a medical man too. Her mother is the stay home type."

"How do you know that?" John asked shocked.

Sherlock began to rattle off all the things that told him that. From the boy's hair cut and stance to his tan and watch. John just stood there slack-jawed.

He blinked twice. "That was… amazing."

Sherlock's head rocked back.

"It was?"

"Well of course it was. It was incredible. Extraordinary even."

"That's not what people normally say.

"What do people normally say?"

"Piss off." Sherlock replied bitterly. John started to giggle and the giggle turned into a laugh and suddenly Sherlock couldn't hold back his smile. He started grinning from ear to ear and then joined in the laughter. Sherlock couldn't remember a time when he laughed this much.

There was really only one thing left to show John, the rugby and football pitch but he declined.

"I'll be spending all my time down there anyway. Just point out the direction it's in and I'll find it on my own. Besides, what if they are practicing? A stray ball might hit that pretty face of yours."


	3. The Social Caterpillar

_What are you doing John? You sound like you are hitting on him. Remember NOT gay. Just because your sister is doesn't mean you are too. The only people you've dated have been girls, get a grip. _Though if John was honest to himself, Sherlock was a good looking boy. He was tall, with dark curls that often fell in front of those startling blue grey eyes. He should be the toast of the school, every girl should want to be with him and every boy should want to be him.

Instead, if he was to be believed Sherlock was an outcast, a social pariah. John couldn't see it. Sherlock was a bit of a cold fish, sure. But there were kids like that in his old school and they all had friends. Well… alright more like cronies. But still they had people they hang out with.

"Anything I should be concerned with, with you as a roommate?" He asked as he watched the dark haired boy move around the room.

Sherlock laughed bitterly and John gave him a rueful smile.

"Oh loads."

"You don't bring girlfriends back to the room do you?" John inquired.

"Um… girls not my area…" Sherlock hedged.

"Boyfriends?" John asked, his eyebrows shooting up a bit.

"What makes you think that if I don't have friends that I would bring 'dates' back to the room?"

John held up his hands. "Hey, I'm not going to judge. My sister's gay. And not everyone has sex for the emotional thing. Some people just like sex."

"I assure you, I am not one of them."

"Ever tried?" John blurted before he realized what he was saying. "No, sorry. Don't answer that, it's none of my business." Sherlock merely snorted.

"I'm going to go check out the rec. room, you wanna come?" John asked as he moved to the door.

"No, thanks. Go enjoy. I have to check in with my brother."

"Oh… one of those kind of brothers… You have my sympathy."

Sherlock's eyes went wide and John laughed and walked out into the hall. He made his way to the rec. room and saw a bunch of kids milling about playing foosball, air hockey, pool or just lounging on the surfaces of the couches and chairs that littered the room. It was a dream come true. He looked around and knew immediately who was in charge.

In the nicest chair in the room sat an older boy, his brown hair spiky and his brown eyes pierced everyone. This was not someone you crossed but at the same time he seemed friendly and carefree. In fact he noticed John about the same time John noticed him.

"Hey, new kid! Come here." John made his way over. He knew it was better to get the power play out of the way. The other boy stood and extended his hand. John shook it and immediately felt the warmth. He expected more of a show force, to be honest.

"Greg Lestrade, I'm the dorm head. If you have any trouble just let me know, and I'll take care of it."

"John Watson, pleasure to meet you." John was pleasantly surprised, the way Sherlock talked, everyone here were stupid cavemen banging their heads on the walls and bullying whoever crossed their path. John had met a few like that but Greg seemed a different sort.

"And you, John." Greg sat back down. "So you met your roommate yet?"

"Oh, yeah." John said, nodding vigorously.

"Ooh." He rans his hands through his hair nervously. "Let me guess, Sherlock?"

"How did you know?" John asked as he sat down nearby. Clearly, Sherlock did have a reputation.

"There is only one person at this school that elicits that kind of response."

"Right. He's interesting." John admitted.

Greg laughed. "He doesn't have friends but that not to say that there aren't people he can tolerate for longer than two seconds. And that would be me and me."

"Because he has to? Because you're dorm head?" John asked, he was curious about his roommate.

"I wasn't dorm head last year. It's always a 12th year. No. I do the best I can to keep the tormenting to a minimum. Wouldn't surprise me that's why they made me dorm head this year to be honest. I shudder to think what will happen next after I've gone."

"They torment him? I know about the 'Freak' bit but bullying too?"

Greg shook his head. "He's not normal. That's pretty much clear to everyone. What isn't clear, is how he does that thing he does, what he does, you know what I mean?"

"The one look and he knows your whole life story bit?"

"That's it, yeah. It unnerves people. So when he tells them that their girlfriend cheated on them or that their mum did drugs or that the teacher was late because of a broken alarm clock, it makes them angry. And angry people don't think clearly."

"Right."

They played pool a bit and Greg introduced him to a few of the other dorm mates. In particular Greg's roommate Victor Trevor. Victor was a shy red-head with freckles across his cheeks and nose. But once they got into the game, he really opened up. John was laughing along with them.

They talked about all sorts of topics but the only one that held his interest for any length of time was his roommate. John looked up from his shot and saw Sherlock standing in the door. He excused himself and ran up to his roommate.

"Hey! I thought you didn't like coming here, but no matter come play with us." John grabbed Sherlock's wrist and pulled him over to the table.

"Hey Sherlock," Greg nodded. And Victor merely blushed.

"You know how to play, right, Sherlock?" John asked, handing him a cue. Not John's, his was too short for the lanky youth. Sherlock nodded. "I'm eleven through sixteen and it's my turn."

Sherlock stepped up and dusted his cue. He smirked and drew back. There was crack and then the entire room went silent as they watched the balls sink in order, without touching Greg or Victor's balls or the eight ball. He smirked again, this time a broad grin split his face. Crack! and the eight ball sank like a stone. He stood up and leaned on the cue.

"Bloody hell, how did you do that?" Victor asked, his shyness blown to moon at such an amazing shot.

"It's simple geometry after all." Sherlock replied.

"Can you teach me how to do that?" Victor pleaded. Sherlock shrugged. But the rest of the night was Sherlock showing Victor how to line up his shots and the other boys taking notes. By the end of the night Victor was better than the rest of them save Sherlock and the other boys were surprised at how open Victor was with Sherlock.

Finally curfew was called and the boys trailed off, Sherlock joining the throng. John was about to follow when Greg held him back with a shake of his head.

John waited until the room was cleared of everyone but him and Greg.

"What the hell did you do?" Greg demanded once the coast was clear.

"I'm not sure I understand the question." John admitted.

"Sherlock has never _ever_ come down let alone played pool with us. What did you do?"

John shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe it had something to do with his last roommate. Sherlock only mentioned him once when he found out I was his new roommate but I got the impression that there was some strong feelings going on there."

"Oh, I know who you mean. He got kicked out, the roommate, I mean. It was hushed up but he was caught raping a male student."

"Dear god. I'm surprised he didn't try that shit with Sherlock…" John spoke in hushed tones.

"Who knows, he may have. Despite what that kid looks like, he's the lightweight boxing champ of our school."

"You have got to be joking…" John trailed off when Greg shook his head.

"He's the top student in grades too. Best jumper too." Greg went on.

"Hang on, jumper?"

"Ever seen that kid on a horse?" Greg returned.

John shook his head. "He showed me the stable, though."

"They are like one. So fluid and graceful that you can't tell where the horse ends and Sherlock starts." Greg shook his head at the image that entered his head.

"Is there anything he isn't good at?" John shook his head. _No wonder he has an ego the size of Jupiter. It's well deserved. _

"Social interactions." John's eyebrows shot up. "No seriously. This was bizarre, you have no idea. Just wait until you see him at class, you'll see what I mean."

John trudged up to his room with a lot on his mind. He opened the door to find his roommate curled up on his side facing the wall away from John. John sighed and slowly got undressed. Putting all his things neatly away he got into his pajamas and crawled into bed. He put his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling.

He had learned all about his roommate but it all seemed so contradictory to the boy he saw today. But Greg said that he would see for himself tomorrow and all he could do until then was sleep. He curled up on his side away from his roommate. Sighing he let himself drift off to sleep.

**A/N: The chapters seem to be getting smaller and I'm not sure I like the trend. And while in the books Sherlock doesn't like horses I figure for this case the only way he'd get involved was if he was invested in some way. And yes I will get to the case soon. I'm just setting up all the characters. We meet people from other dorms tomorrow. That ought be fun. And we get to see that Sherlock snark we know and love. **


	4. The Life of the Bullied

Sherlock woke up before John did. Even in the morning light he wasn't sure what possessed him to go down and see what John was doing but nonetheless he found himself standing in the doorway watching the one person that made him feel normal make friends with others. Lestrade, he could tolerate he supposed. But really he shouldn't have got his hopes up. John was going to be popular and soon he would be joining them in calling him the Freak. Even Lestrade let that one slide.

What he didn't expect however was John forcing him to join them. Suddenly he found himself playing pool with a small group of boys. He didn't have friends. But he also didn't know what was happening. John Watson walks into his life and suddenly he doesn't feel lonely anymore. When he got back to the room he punched the wall in frustration.

_Alone is what protects me._ He repeated over and over again. But the damn thing didn't seem to stick. _Curse you, John Watson!_ To avoid talking to his annoyingly nice roommate he hurriedly got ready for bed and hopped into bed, turned away from the door. Once John was asleep, Sherlock rolled over to look at the ceiling. He never thought he'd wish for the bullying but anything was better than false hope.

Sherlock got dressed and looked over his schedule and then at John's, which he had left out last night. He groaned inwardly. Other than rugby for John and orchestra for Sherlock in their fourth period their schedules were the same. Sherlock blinked a couple times before hard logic took over. Sherlock knew he was taking high level classes. He'd seen his roommate's books, of course. Sherlock didn't bother with the books as they were usually wrong so he didn't make the connection. John was intelligent. He had used 'fairly good student' last night but that was clearly underestimating the boy.

Sherlock grabbed his rucksack and was about grab his schedule and leave when John stirred. _Damn. So close._

John sat up and rubbed his eyes. He looked up to see his roommate with his hand on the doorknob.

"Hey Sherlock. You're up early." John mumbled as he got up and went to his drawers.

"I was about to hit up the library before classes start. Get in some reading I like before the teachers force me into the dull stuff they want me to read." Why Sherlock was explaining himself, he wasn't sure.

"Okay. See you in class." John stumbled toward the bathroom and closed the door tightly behind him.

Sherlock made his way to the small school library and sighed as he entered the confines. This was his true home. Not 221B or Darkwood Manor where spends his vacations. No, this was home. The smell of dust and aging paper, with only the barest of sounds is what he craved. What use had he of people when he had books. He strolled through the aisles reacquainting himself with the shelves. He was almost done when he saw the last person in the world he wanted to meet. Anderson. _Shit!_ He tried to sneak off before the boy noticed him but he was out of luck. The idiot had seen him.

Anderson was with his cronies Powers and Bates. Big sneering brutes that followed the sniveling Anderson around.

"Well, well if it isn't our favorite punching bag, the Freak. We figured you'd be here. We heard you're on probation. That means if you get into trouble, you're out of here." He grinned.

"So if you fight back… we'll tell dear sweet Mrs. Hudson how the big bad bully Holmes started it and how we were merely defending ourselves…" Powers and Bates chuckled evilly.

"You got Donovan pregnant yet, Anderson? Or does she just give you blow jobs?" Sherlock sneered.

Anderson pulled back his arm and Sherlock dodged. "I may not be able to hit you. But that doesn't mean I have to sit there and let you hit me." Powers and Bates weighed in and Sherlock was having to dodge all three of them and it was getting more and more difficult, finally as he dodged Anderson he moved right into the path of Power's right hook. It didn't hit his face but a thump to the arm stung more than a little. But that little mistake cost him him the fight as he stumbled and they used him as a punching bag.

They were careful to avoid the face and they sneered as bell rang. They trudged off pleased at themselves. Sherlock stood up and nearly fell over. He coughed a little blood came out. _Shit!_ Sherlock grabbed his rucksack and stumbled to his first class, chemistry.

The teacher was tapping her foot impatiently as he walked in head high and not looking like he had had the shit beaten out of him.

"Mr. Holmes, how nice of you to deign to grace us with your presence. Please take your seat next to Mr. Watson." The teacher, a Mrs. Turner called out in a high pitch voice.

Sherlock strolled over to his chair and gracefully folded himself into it. Mrs. Turner huffed and then started her lecture. Sherlock tuned her out as he did a mental check of his body. Definitely a cracked rib. That would make riding hard. Several bruises but nothing major. No cuts as far he could tell.

"Mr. Holmes?" He snapped up. Judging from the look on her face she had been calling him for awhile now.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Turner. I didn't sleep well last night." he lied smoothly. Out of the corner of his eye he saw John frown.

"That's no excuse Mr. Holmes. You are to be paying attention in my class."

"I'm paying attention. You are reviewing what we did last year and considering I aced it I didn't feel the need to answer your question on the properties of neon. And if the rest of the class doesn't know then they have no business being in level three chemistry."

"That is quite enough Mr. Holmes. One more word out of you and you'll be sent to see Mrs. Hudson. And I am quite sure she will not be happy with your smart ass comments." The class gasped at her use of bad language. But she smiled. She had gotten her point across.

Sherlock sulked the rest of the class. Mrs. Turner kept throwing questions his way to make sure he was paying attention.

In their next class Sherlock sat in the back away from everyone else and John found himself sitting next to the prettiest blond girl he had ever seen. Even Sherlock found her aesthetically pleasing.

The teacher walked in and Sherlock moaned to himself. Mr. Smiley. Never was there a man _least_ like his surname in the history of the world. He didn't smile, he wasn't nice. He hated his students and in particular Sherlock. Sherlock hadn't even done his deduction trick on the man which was the usual reason for dislike sent his way. He didn't even raise his hand in class. No it was because despite his silence and apparently callous attitude he aced his assignments and tests.

The teacher sneered as went down the roll. He never called out names he knew who each of his students was a glance. And since John was the only new boy in his class he could pick him out too. It infuriated Sherlock to no end to think that this man would attempt his methods.

He gritted his teeth. The faculty seemed to be aware of his probation as the student body was as Mr. Smiley seemed to be trying into goad him into an outburst. He barely made it, he bolted before Mr. Smiley could keep him after.

He found himself standing in line for lunch when one of the other students accidentally bumped into him, elbowing him in the ribs. The broken ones. Sherlock must have blacked out because he found himself looking into the worried eyes of his flatmate. But his head was supported. John was by his side looking at his eyes with a small pen light.

"Normal reaction. Thanks Victor, you can let him up now." John said as he struggled to his feet. He felt the support gently leave. John held out his hand and Sherlock took it and let John help him stand.

"Sherlock, may I speak with you in our room please?" John's voice was cold and commanding and Sherlock had no power over that sound. He nodded and then without sparing a backward glance followed his roommate to their room.

Once they got there John ordered, "Take off your shirt."

"I thought you were straight John." Sherlock smirked.

"Do. It." John's voice was tight and it almost sounded angry. Sherlock sighed.

"You really don't want me to do this," he told him.

"Yes, I do, Sherlock. Take it off."

Wilting under his roommates gaze he started to unbutton his shirt. John's eyes went wide as he hissed.

"Right, let me get a first aid kit and I'll take care of that." Sherlock sighed as John went out to the hall. Sherlock continued to removed his shirt and he looked at the damage in the mirror. He could see why John was so concerned. There wasn't much of his skin not patched with dark purple marks.

John came back with the kit.

"What did you tell them?" Sherlock asked, his voice matched John's previous coldness.

"That I bashed up myself practicing rugby on my own." John said as he came to kneel at Sherlock's side.

"You lied."

"Let's see what we can do about this shall we? We don't want our top horse champion unable to compete, now do we?" John pulled out the bruise balm first.

"It's going to be cold as hell and sting just as bad."

Sherlock hissed as John began to apply the cream to his wounds. "So Lestrade told you all about me then?" Sherlock couldn't bite back the bile that rose to his throat.

"Not really. Only what I could have figured out on my own. Top grades, best lightweight fighter, even you told me you felt most at home on a horse or in the library. So you want to tell me how the best lightweight champion managed to take this kind of beating?"

"There were three of them." Sherlock told him, John could almost hear the undercurrent of _idiot_ when he said it.

"Uh-huh. That's not all is it? Some of the whispers I heard in the hall is that one more 'incident' and your out of here for good. True or false?"

"True." Sherlock looked away.

"Right and what were the incidences from last year? I need to know what I'm up against."

"Smoking, drinking, sleeping around. They never caught me with those things, what made them want to throw me out was that I beat a boy so bad that he spent three weeks in hospital."

"Why?"

"He heard that I would sleep with anything that moved and wanted to 'buy' me for the weekend. I told him that that wasn't true and that I hadn't been with anyone in weeks. Which was true. The school hadn't caught me but my brother had. So I was trying to keep in line for a bit while his eyes were on me. The other boy wouldn't take no for answer not even when I broke his finger." Sherlock shrugged. "He was probably high and couldn't feel it."

"That's pretty awful. Did you tell them what happened?"

"The word of the 'Freak' against one of their golden boy football players? They wouldn't believe it. And if I went to the nurse this time it would have been the same thing. They would have showed up with scrapes and bruises of their own and said that I had started it and I would have been gone before the end of the day. And Mycroft would have to be teaching me and believe me when I say both of us would prefer that I stay here."

"Right. Well lift up your arms, we need to bandage those ribs." Sherlock did as he was bid and gasped as John bound the ace bandage tightly.

"Well that's that. You're done." John stepped back to admire his handy work. He nodded once and let Sherlock put back on his shirt. He took back the first aid kit and then came back.

He closed the door tightly behind him and turned to Sherlock. "So what are we going to do about this?"

_Wait, we?_


	5. Of Friends and Fascinating Teachers

John had been enjoying a nice quiet lunch in the Marylebone dinning hall when he saw his roommate go down. Sending the pretty blonde girl, he had learned as named Mary, an apologetic smile he dashed over to him to find Victor had gotten there first. The red-headed boy looked up at John with worry clouding those hazel eyes.

"What's wrong with him, John?" Victor asked his voice thick and heavy.

"Get his head up!" John barked and then turned to the other students, "Give him some room." And they backed up.

Victor placed the raven haired boy's head on his lap and looked to John to do something.

John started to unbutton Sherlock's shirt when he saw the first bruise. He looked up at Victor, whose eyes had blown wide. John quickly buttoned the shirt back up.

_That fucking idiot! That why he was late to first class. That's why he couldn't concentrate. That bastard! When I find out who did this, they are going to wish this was all the damage they had. _John was furious. Who would do such a thing?

"Victor, do you know who could have done this?" John was too new to the school.

"This? God, John I don't know. This is beyond anything I've ever seen."

John nodded and started patting Sherlock's cheeks. "Come on, mate. Wake up." Sherlock's eyes fluttered open and John pulled out the pen light he always had on his key chain. He shined the light into each of Sherlock's eyes and sighed with relief when they dilated.

"Normal reaction. Thanks Victor, you can let him up."

John all but frog marched his roommate back to their room. Sherlock fought him over the shirt but finally relented. It was worse than John feared and he was just seeing the front. He left to go get the first aid kit but as soon as the door was shut, he slid to the floor and pressed a hand over his lips.

He had seen stuff like this when his sister was beat up. But this was a boy. A boy that should have been able to protect himself and couldn't. If Sherlock couldn't fight them off what hope was there for smaller, weaker prey for these guys? They had to be stopped.

He went to 101A and knocked on the door. Greg answered the door.

"Oh hey John. What's up?"

"Do you know where they keep the first aid kit? I left my bruise balm at home."

Greg looked John over and didn't notice any bruises. "Next to the kitchen is a first aid station. You want to tell me what this is about?"

John shook his head. "I'm not even sure what it's about." John left to find the first aid kit and made it back to his room.

John listened to Sherlock's explanations and wondered at the small mindedness of people.

When he was done he took it back, glad no one noticed his comings and goings. He didn't want to have to explain that his brilliant roommate was damaged beyond his abilities to put him back together. His dad taught him how to do simple things in case stuff like this happened to Harry while he was on deployment. Broken ribs were beyond his purview.

He closed the door tightly behind him and locked it.

"So what are we going to do about this?" John asked he crossed his arms in front of his chest. People assumed that because he was short, that he was weak but he could be very menacing when the need required. And if there was a time for appearing menacing, now was good.

"_We _can't do anything. Not even you, John. Your fate is tied to mine. If you get into trouble, I do too.

John sighed and ran his hands through his hair in frustration. "Well who's bloody idea was that?!" John shouted angrily.

"Mrs. Hudson's." Sherlock supplied.

"Do you think she'd believe you?" John asked. They needed someone on their side and that number was shrinking with every passing moment.

Sherlock shrugged. He wasn't sure anyone would listen him at this point.

"Right. How long are you on probation?"

"Christmas."

"Well, thank goodness for small favors. We just have to last that long. Dammit!"

Sherlock looked at him confused.

"I don't _want_ to wait that long. I want to take out these shits out now." John started to pace back and forth.

"John. Please stop this. Go back to the pretty blonde and leave me be." Sherlock said as he gingerly put his shirt back on.

"Why?" John whirled on him.

"I can't."

"You can't what?" John huffed.

"I can't- I can't... have friends. They always leave in the end." Sherlock ducked his head.

John marched over and pulled Sherlock's chin back up so that Sherlock was looking at him.

"My god, what have these people done to you?" John asked. Sherlock was one of them. He was from a good family, with more money than god in all likelihood. But he was ostracized while John who came from a lower middle class family was met with open arms. He didn't understand.

A single tear streaked down Sherlock's face and John pulled him into a hug. Sherlock didn't hug back but neither did he push away. The bell rang for lunch to be over and John finally let go.

"Come on, mate. Let's see what _dull_ books they are making us read in English this year." John held out his hand.

Sherlock gave a weak watery chuckle and let John help him up. They grabbed their English stuff and John grabbed his rugby kit and shoved it unceremoniously in his bag.

They walked in the class and mused at the quiet attentiveness of the other students. It seemed like they were waiting on bated breath for the teacher. They got their seats and waited with the rest of the class. When the teacher arrive it was quite clear even to John why everyone was excited. The girls were in no doubt in love with him and the boys thought he was cool.

He had shoulder length curly brown hair pulled back in pony-tail with a goatee and wire rimmed glasses. He wore his designer jeans with a white button up and black blazer.

"Hello class, my name is JC Jones. You will address me as JC. I'm the new English teacher at this positively delightful school. If you would kindly take out your out our syllabus?" Everyone hastened to obey. He waited until the rustling stopped. "Got it, great. Now toss that hideous thing out the window."

"There will be no tests in this class. I am of the firm belief that anyone can take tests. It's actually fairly easy to without actually knowing the material."

A boy in the back raised his hand.

JC looked over his roster. "Moriarty?" The boy must have nodded. "What's your question?"

"How will you know if we know the work if you don't test us?"

"Through assignments and class participation." There was muttering and murmuring and he waited it out.

"Now which of you is Mr. Holmes?" He asked the class. John gently nudged Sherlock's arm and he raised it tentatively.

"Ah. I've heard all about you and I simply ask that if you have a problem with the way I'm teaching or if there is something incorrect on the board, talk to me after class and I will do my best listen to you. Is that clear?"

Sherlock nodded. John looked over at his roommate shocked.

"Now to get on with class. The first book we are going to read is 'Pride and Prejudice' by Jane Austen." The girls twittered happily while the boys groaned.

"Hey now," JC exclaimed. "It's one of _my _favorites." The boys looked at him incredulously. "There are proper villains disguised as good men. Good men who are too shy to put themselves forward and are cast in an evil light. There is the class distinctions and the ability to overcome your situation. It is a great book."

He went around and passed out a copy of the book to everyone. "Alright open to the first page. Moran, would you start us off please?"

"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife…." John actually found himself drawn in the book. He had always assumed it was a girly book but JC had been right, it wasn't about a bunch of silly girls drooling over men like pieces of meat. Though there was a bit of that certainly. John felt drawn to Mr. Bingley character and felt that Sherlock was very much Mr. Darcy. Cold, aloof and only understood by his closest friends and family.

Sherlock and John split up for their PE portions of their classes, John went to rugby and Sherlock went to horseback riding.

John wasn't surprised to see that Greg was captain of the rugby team.

"Everyone gather round we have a new player on the team. Scouted from Brixton."

John recognized some of the boys from his earlier classes. Moran was there. The boys called him Seb. An Anderson and a Norm Bates too. John didn't remember them from his classes so they were average students either here on a purely rugby scholarship or mummy and daddy got them in. Judging from their superior expressions he bet on the money bit.

John was hot and sweaty when he returned to the room. Sherlock was in the shower when he got there and was forced to wait. He thought about the boys he met today and while some of them were nice, he could now see what Sherlock meant by the jocks being assholes. Rugby or football they acted liked the owned the school. Despite the fact that their were swimmers and riders that were the top of their divisions.

Sherlock came out in a blue silk robe.

"Ah, John. I thought I heard you come in." He went and put his stuff away. "How was rugby?"

"I have come to the conclusion you were right." John said as he gathered his stuff for his shower.

"Oh? About what?"

"Rugby players are asses." John said as he walked into the bathroom. Before he closed the door he heard Sherlock chuckle.

* * *

**A/N: The English teacher is based on my sociology teacher in high school. He acted very much the way Mr. Jones does. Very animated, didn't believe in tests, friendly asked to be called JC, last name is different, though. ;) Even the description is fairly spot on, just rewind him to the start of his career and it would be spot on. I had JC five years before he retired. **


	6. And the Hammer Fell

Sherlock was surprised to see Victor in his riding class. He hadn't been last year but as Sherlock watched him, he could tell that Victor had a good seat and better technique.

When Victor came around he stopped in front of him.

"Since when do you ride?" Sherlock asked.

"Since I was five. My parents had been trying to get me to compete for years."

"Why haven't you? You clearly are good enough." Sherlock jumped to the top of the fence and perched on it so he could be eye to eye with the older red-head.

"Too shy." He shrugged. "The horse can sense timidity. It'll spook." Sherlock nodded.

"So what changed then?"

"Hop on and I'll tell you." Victor grinned mischievously. It was Sherlock's turn to shrug and he threw caution to the wind and waited until Victor brought the horse around so Sherlock could mount from the proper side.

"Hold on. I know you have a broken rib. I'll keep it smooth." Smooth of course meant a trot.

Sherlock wrapped his arms around the gangly youth and marveled in the warmth. _Curse you, John Watson. This is your fault. I was quiet happy being alone. And now I've got damn_ butterflies! Sherlock thought angrily.

"Um… I've had a crush on you since last year…." Victor started. Sherlock was shocked.

"I didn't think anyone liked me." Sherlock told him.

"Well that's not quite true. Molly from your year does too. I'm not sure but I've caught Greg looking at you too. Not everyone hates you, you know. It just took one boy to open you open to see that you have friends."

"So this is John's fault. I knew it."

Victor laughed. "I will thank him every day of my life for that."

"This isn't you explaining why you decided to taking up riding this year." Sherlock wanted to get off the topic of him and John. Because while being this close to Victor brought out the butterflies, the thought of John brought on crashing waves, waves he fought to keep down. _Besides, my dear boy, he straight. Here is someone who likes you, and interested in the right bits. You could do worse. Anderson, for one._

"You silly git. I'm here because you are. In fact I tried to transfer to this class last year but it would have thrown my whole schedule into hell and Mrs. Hudson didn't want to deal with it."

Sherlock blushed. "I can't promise to be any good at this sort of thing." Sherlock nuzzled his head into Victor's back. "But I can promise to try." Victor pulled up the horse sharply, cause Sherlock to wince. He whirled around to face him, his hazel eyes blown wide.

"You're serious? You'll go out with me?"

Two days. Two days, that's all it took for Sherlock to go from being a lonely bullied boy to boy with friends and now a boyfriend.

Sherlock nodded shyly. Victor lifted his head in hand and gently pressed his lips to Sherlock's. _Well that's nice._ Sherlock thought.

Victor broke off the kiss. "Well this went better than I could possibly dreamed of. If someone had told me yesterday, that today I would be kissing the great Sherlock Holmes, I would have hit them."

Sherlock laughed. "Why's that?"

"I would have thought that they were trying to trick me so that you'd beat me up." Sherlock frowned.

"People just can't let that go, can they?" Sherlock got off the horse gingerly and started to walk off. Before he got too far, he felt someone spin him around and press lips fiercely against his.

"You're an idiot you know that." Victor breathed into his ear. It sent a shiver down Sherlock's spine.

"Yes, everyone's heard about the boy you put in the hospital but there are some of us who knew what he was. He been making the rounds with the known gay ones and forcing them to have sex with him. You weren't the first. You were just the first to fight back. Me and Greg personally thought that you should have killed him."

Sherlock's eyes went wide.

"He was an arrogant prick who thought that he could take what he wanted, whenever he wanted. But we also know you're on probation, the whole fucking school knows. I swear to god they should have just announced it in an assembly or something because that would have been simpler. Seriously though, I know those pricks that beat you did it because they knew you couldn't fight back. I don't know who did it and don't care but I'm not going to let it happen again. You have my word. Do you understand?"

Sherlock didn't really so he shook his head.

Victor sighed. "I love you." And he pressed his lips back to Sherlock's.

_Alright, I still don't understand but I do understand that he meant every word. _It brought up a wonderful feeling in the pit of his stomach.

The teacher, Master Jenkins just smiled at the two of them and shook his head. When Sherlock explained that he fell down a flight of stairs and broke a rib Master Jenkins allowed him to ride with Victor.

When class ended he made his way back to his room and hopped into the shower. He couldn't believe his luck. He had someone who loved him. About half way through his shower he heard the door close and figured John was home. He came out and John was sitting on his bed clearly waiting for his turn.

"Ah, John. I thought I heard you come in." He went and put his stuff away. "How was rugby?" Sherlock wouldn't have even thought about asking before but he thought he'd be nice to John. After all it was thanks to him he had friends. Had a boyfriend.

"I have come to the conclusion you were right." John said as he gathered his stuff for his shower.

"Oh? About what?" Sherlock was usually right but it was strange for someone to admit it.

"Rugby players are asses." John said as he walked into the bathroom.

Sherlock chuckled. When John came out he seemed more relaxed. John looked him up and down once.

"So Victor confessed, huh?" John asked as he neatly folded his clothes.

Sherlock sputtered. "How- who-!"

"It's strange to be on the other side of that isn't it?" John chuckled.

"There is nothing perceptibly different about me, so how did you know?" Sherlock let his curiosity get the better of him.

"Well physically you'd be right. But from where I stand, there's a light in your eyes that wasn't there before. And even _I_ could tell Victor had a crush on you. And here you are back from riding the happiest I've ever seen you and while granted I've only known you less than two bloody days it's clear you've found someone who loves you. Now let's go eat you big git."

Sherlock just stared at him and then a true smile spread across his lips.

"Alright." He agreed. He had this small giddy thought that Victor might be there.

As they walked to the dinning hall, John asked, "Why don't we eat with the other dorms?" It was clear John was thinking about the girl he sat next to in Mrs. Turner's class.

"To keep the student body's hormones to a minimum. Since there are twice as many boys as girls they didn't want the boys breaking into fist fights over a girl."

Sherlock chuckled at John's shocked expression and watched as it changed to thinking and then finally understanding.

"My dad's army, yeah? Well he said that the navy was still struggling with letting women on submarines for that reason. Despite things were fine on other navy vessels. He said it probably had to do with the fact that they were trapped under water with no way out. Made things too tense. It's still a pity though."

"You can take your dinner out to lawn. You might see her there." Sherlock supplied.

John gave him a playful shove. "You just want to be alone with your _boyfriend_." John teased and then dashed the rest of the way to dinning hall. Sherlock chased after him and shoved him back. The entire hall gasped and went silent. John shoved him back laughing. And the collective released the breath they were holding.

"Oi! I'm rugby player, you don't want to mess with me mate!" John hollered as swatted at Sherlock playfully.

"Lightweight boxer!" Sherlock replied laughing as they pushed and punched at each other as they walked up to the line. They were so wrapped up in playing with each other they didn't notice the attention they were getting from their dorm mates.

Greg was the first one to return to his food and everyone followed suit. Everyone but Victor. He continued to watch the play with interest.

Sherlock got a yogurt and an apple with a cup of coffee, black two sugars. He watched with amusement John piled his plate with everything he could get his small hands on.

"Eating for two are we?" Sherlock teased.

"Yep! For me and _you!_" John returned. Sherlock laughed. "Clearly you think that food is hazardous to your health. You do know it's the opposite, right? Food is required to power those little brain cells of yours." John poked Sherlock's head.

"Too much food means energy used for brain power is instead used for digestion." Sherlock sniffed disdainfully.

"That's utter bullocks and you know it. That idea went out with the 19th century, you git." John bumped him with his as he neared the table that Victor and Greg were sitting at.

They sat down, John next to Greg and Sherlock next to Victor. Sherlock smiled as Victor put his hand on his back. Greg noticed and raised a questioning eyebrow at his roommate. Victor blushed.

"Apparently Victor's got a boyfriend." John explained.

"Just don't nose it abroad too much, yeah? My parents don't know I'm gay."

Sherlock frowned. He didn't understand why that would bother people but when he saw John shake his head ever so minutely that Sherlock wisely said nothing.

John was finally tucking into his food, ignoring the displays of affection that was taking place in front of him.

"I told you, you could take your dinner out to the lawn to see if she was there.

"Wait, who?" Greg asked.

"The pretty blonde girl I was sitting next to in chem. Mary something. Petite, heart shaped face. Deep brown eyes-" Sherlock kicked John under the table to get him to stop mooning.

"Oh, you mean Mary Morstan? She's quite the looker for sure. Got half the male population baying for her."

Sherlock sulked. _I've heard of her, didn't realize that was that girl. She won't go out with anyone. Now I'm going to have to deal with a love sick roommate mooning over some girl he can't have. This is going to be annoying._ Victor mistook the look on his face because he muttered into his ear, "Not me love." It sent a chill down his spine.

"Oh well," John was saying. "It wasn't as though I thought I had a chance with her anyway." He was picking at his food now. Not interested in it anymore.

Sherlock kicked him again. "For god's sake, John! Talk to her!"

John flashed him a pained smile.

There came a loud screeching sound over the PA system. "Will all students please report to the auditorium for an emergency assembly. Again will all students please report to the auditorium for an emergency assembly."

All the students of dorm Marylebone left their food were it was on the tables and filed out to the auditorium. John found Sherlock and stayed with him. Sherlock was sure that it was to make sure he didn't sneak off.

They found seats near the back and waited for everyone to file in. Mrs. Hudson stood up on the stage with a small man standing next to her. There was a podium set up at the center.

"Settle down, please." Mrs Hudson spoke into the microphone.

"There has been an incident and Inspector Dimmock is here to explain." she continued once they had gotten settled in. She stepped aside and let the small man step up to the podium.

"I regret to inform you that a half hour ago Master Jenkins was found dead out near the south forest and that the stable housing this school's prized horse Silver Blaze was empty."

The auditorium broke out in pandemonium.

_Idiot!_ Sherlock thought furiously.


	7. Evelyn

John looked up to see Sherlock stand and make his way to the doors. He looked over at Victor and he couldn't get out without getting caught by teachers. John stood up and followed his mad roommate out and grabbed his arm.

"Hey-" John stopped. He looked up at Sherlock's face and was shocked to see tears streaming down his cheeks.

"Are you alright?" John asked. Sherlock merely ripped his arm out of John's hand and ran.

"Shit!" he cursed and took off after him. Sherlock's long legs had the advantage of course but John was in shape, far better shape then the youth with broken ribs and stiff aching muscles.

"Sherlock!" He called but it only seemed to spur the dark haired boy to run faster. John huffed and sped up too.

John cursed loud and long. He was going to do something he would have rather avoided but his roommate wasn't going to stop for anything. John got close enough and proceeded to tackle Sherlock to the ground. But at the moment he twisted and Sherlock landed on top of him.

Sherlock struggled only briefly before collapsing into John's chest. John could hear the breaths coming fast and ragged. John took that moment to catch his own breath and look around. They're near the horse paddock. Sherlock had run for the one place he felt most at home to see if they were right. John could see the flashing lights of the police cars and the rustling and stomping around of the officers.

John was helping Sherlock to his feet when one of those officers came over.

"Hey! You aren't suppose to be here!" He hollered.

Sherlock was about to say something when John pressed gently on Sherlock's hurt rib. He gasped in shock.

"I'm sorry officer. My roommate here was Silver Blaze's owner and when he heard the horse was missing, dashed over to see if it was true." John pointedly ignoring the death glares he was getting from Sherlock.

"Oh right. Sorry, kid but it's true the horse is missing, nevermind your teacher was murdered." The officer sneered.

"Master Jenkins wasn't worth upwards of £300,000." Sherlock sniffed. The officer's jaw dropped.

"How much?" he stammered.

"That is of course the low estimate of course. Master Jenkins was a good man and better teacher, I don't doubt but if I were you I would concentrate on finding that horse, officer."

Sherlock strolled off and John nodded to the officer and ran after his roommate.

"Why are police so stupid?" Sherlock screamed in frustration as they made their way back to their dorms. They were stopped by this mousy girl, who was shorter than John if it could be believed.

"Gosh, there you guys are!"

"Hey, Molly." Sherlock muttered.

"Mrs. Hudson was looking for you, Sherlock. She told me to me to look for you." She smiled up at Sherlock brightly.

She was smitten with his roommate. John decided to let the girl down gently.

"Hey, I'm John." She jumped and realized her error.

"Oh, sorry. I'm Molly."

"I'm his roommate." John turned to Sherlock.

"You go see Mrs. Hudson and I'll go tell Victor where you're at, k?" Sherlock nodded and walked off toward the direction of the administration building.

"Who's Victor?" Molly asked. "And why would he care about Sherlock?"

"I'm surprised, really I thought this place was like my old school. Especially with everyone knowing about Sherlock's probation."

"Sherlock's on probation? For what?" Molly cocked her head to the side.

John ran a hand over his face.

"Right. Clearly you are out of the loop. I'm new here and I know more than you. Which is sad really."

Molly sighed. "It's normal, is what it is. My roommate likes to keep things from me so that she can have a laugh at my expense. I think it's because I'm smarter than she is."

John blinked appreciatively at the girl in front of him. "That's rather insightful."

"I see people. Most of the time, I'm pretty invisible so I see people when their guard is down."

"Like Sherlock was really lonely before you came along. He didn't speak to anyone unless it was to insult them."

"He still does that." John laughed.

"I suppose. So you going to tell me what's going on with Sherlock?"

"Right. Beat up a boy last year-"

"I thought that was just a rumor…"

"Apparently not. Got put on probation and my sponsor. If I do anything wrong, it reflects back on him and he could get chucked out for it. He's being bullied but won't tell me who. And he just started dating Victor. Apparently the two of them have been making moon eyes each other the past couple days and Victor plucked up the courage to ask him out."

"Wow. In every aspect."

"Yeah so, that's the life and times of Sherlock Holmes."

Molly looked up at me, a wicked grin on face.

"I know who's been bullying him, if you're interested."

John frowned. "I'd like to but if I get in trouble, so does he."

"So don't get caught." John was really starting like this girl.

"What's in for me?" John wasn't about to do this with out more incentive than sticking up for his odd roommate.

"I'll introduce you to Mary. She's a friend… well, when I say friend…." she shot me this grin.

"Right. So I beat up of a couple of guys for you because they hurt Sherlock and I get a date with Mary, the prettiest girl in the school? Is that how this works?"

"Pretty much, yeah, though the date is up to you. The only thing I can do introduce you. I'm not going to what do the Americans call it? Oh yeah, 'pimp' out my friend. It'll be up to her if she likes you."

He laughed. "Fair enough."

John stuck out his hand and she took it.

"I think this going to be the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

Molly laughed. "I love Bogey too."

John avoided his roommate for the next couple days so that the twit didn't 'deduce' it out of him. Somehow Victor and Greg got wind of what he was planning and wanted in on it.

Victor got the job of distracting Sherlock. The largest grin spread over the red-head's face.

Greg was to keep teacher away from the area and general look out.

After rugby practice John cornered Anderson in the showers. He liked to linger waiting for his girlfriend so they could shag under the bleachers.

John leaned up against the door frame still in his rugby kit.

"So I hear you like to pick on boys that can't fight back." John sneered.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Anderson snarled.

"Oh you don't? You know, the next time you're going to beat the shit out of a person, make sure there aren't witnesses."

"Oh yeah? Who?"

"And have you beat them up too? Not bloody likely." John stood up and moved into the small room.

"I know about you and that 'freak'. You can't hurt me anymore than he could."

"Right, go ahead and tell everyone that a boy my size beat the shit out you. You'll get laughed out of the school. So let's go Evelyn." John taunted.

Anderson's face turned purple with rage. John didn't know how Molly found out Anderson's first name but it didn't matter, it was the right push over the edge. Filled with rage and not backed by his burly friends Anderson was easy for John.

John may have not been a boxer like Sherlock but he'd gotten in plenty of fights with people over the years and for pretty much the real reason behind this. Sherlock was targeted because of his sexuality and people had targeted Harry for the same reason. She didn't know that was the reason he got into fights of course. He liked being friends with his sister thanks. But he couldn't tell Molly that. He'd just met her.

When Anderson coughing on the floor struggling to get up, John knelt down and picked him up by the scruff of his shirt.

"Now you listen good, _Evelyn._ If you or your cronies lay a hand on ANYONE again and what Sherlock did to that kid last year will look like a walk in the park next to what will happen to you. Is that clear?"

Anderson nodded. John clapped his hand on Anderson's back. "That's good. Now you get to tell people that this was just a bit of unnecessary roughness in practice and that you'll be out for a couple day. To think about how to be a good boy, yeah?" Anderson nodded.

John strolled out of the locker room and Greg smiled.

"Any trouble?" John asked.

"So how many times _did_ he get tackled, John?" Greg chuckled.

"I don't know Captain. I lost count."

Greg laughed.

"I'm surprised that you ultimately let me do this, Greg. I mean you could have really got in trouble if we got caught. Your the captain after all. And dorm head."

"Do what? Talk to Anderson? Because that's all you did right?" Greg's brown eyes twinkled with hidden mirth.

"Oh, right. Of course."

When John got back to his room he was grinning ear to ear. Sherlock sat on John's bed, looking cross.

"Oh hey Sherlock. They let you back into the paddock, yet?"

"Don't hey me. Or try and change the subject. I thought I told you stay out of my business."

John gave him his best "I don't know what you mean" look and began gathering his stuff for a shower.

"You're late."

"Yeah, Greg wanted to keep me behind to talk about some maneuvers I was having trouble with."

"I didn't know beating the shit out of Anderson was considered a 'maneuver', John."

"Is that what he's saying? Because me and most of the team will say that he got roughed up at practice. Brutal game, rugby." John's voice was as innocent as could be but Sherlock wasn't buying it.

"So you did!" John cursed under his breath. "John, you could get kicked and you haven't even finished your first week."

John grabbed Sherlock's face in his hands. "Look, I know about bullies having been bullied and having my sister bullied. A show of force is what it takes to get them back off. I didn't do it for you, I did it because I can't stand creeps like that. Clear?"

"Crystal." Sherlock's voice was droll. I laughed.

* * *

**A/N: John's comment about a beautiful friendship is from "Casablanca". And in England in the early part of the 20th century Evelyn was man's name. So Anderson was named after his grandfather. It's also why no one calls him by his first name. He ****_hates_**** it. **


	8. Matchmaker John?

**A/N: Sorry, it took me so long to get this chapter up but I was on vacation at Denver's anime con NDK. Which was lots of fun and met up with some great Sherlockians. Oh and fluff alert. This is ****_especially_**** fluffy. And I tease the hell out Johnlock fans. I'm sorry... nope couldn't keep a straight face. Not sorry at all. :) **

* * *

Sherlock was becoming livid. The police was focusing on the death of the teacher instead of finding the horse and any attempts to persuade them to focus on finding the horse were stonewalled.

John walked in after about three weeks of no news to find Sherlock destroying his half of the room. He picked up a snow globe of London and was about to throw it at the wall in frustration. John saw what it was and leaped to take it from him.

"Not that mate, you'll hate yourself later." Sherlock looked down at the object in his hand and blanched.

"Thanks, John. You're right as always."

John laughed. "Isn't that my line?" Sherlock forced a smile. "So no word on Silver Blaze then?" John put the globe on his side of the bed and then picked up a tacky lamp that his mother insisted he take with him. Sherlock had abused it several times. John handed it to Sherlock. "If you're going to destroy anything please let it be this damn thing."

"How are you going to explain its destruction to your mother?"

"I knocked it over coming home late from rugby one night." Sherlock smiled and tossed it as hard he could against the wall.

"Hurrah!" John called out as shattered.

"You could always blame it on your crazy roommate, you know." Sherlock said, feeling better. Not even Victor had this effect on him. Victor wanted to hold him and tell him it will be alright. John handed him something useful to destroy.

"Nah. Besides I want to have you over to stay a couple days during the Christmas break. I'm not sure my mum would let stay the destructor of her precious lamp."

"You- you want me to stay- why?"

"Just for a couple days. Because you're my friend, that's what friends do." And then John's expression became thoughtful. "Oh. Victor's already asked, huh?" John looked hurt.

"No. He hasn't actually. Still doesn't want to come out to his parents yet." Sherlock explained. John beamed. _Why is that I would do anything to make you happy? What makes you so special John Watson?_

Sherlock decided it was time to change the subject. "So when's your date with Mary?"

John looked up stunned. "How did you know? Wait, never mind. I don't want to know." Sherlock's grin split his face. "This Friday. I've never seen you and Victor go out. That because he's technically not out yet?"

"For a straight man, John, you sure seem to know a lot about homosexuality." Sherlock teased.

"Lesbo sister, remember?"

"Oh, right. I deleted it."

"Deleted it? Deleted I had a sister or deleted that she was gay?"

"That she was gay of course. Her sexuality isn't important, so I deleted it."

"That's surprisingly forward, Sherlock."

"Are you saying I'm not a forward thinker?" John laughed.

"No, of course not. You are the most forward thinker I've met. I just wished other people had the same view of it." Sherlock nodded.

"But we're getting off the topic."

John looked up from his cleaning up the lamp. "Which topic was this, now?"

Sherlock flopped on John's bed and pressed his palms together under his chin. "The topic of the incompetence of the police."

"Oi! That's my bed, Sherlock. Get off!" Sherlock ignored him. "And don't let Victor hear you say that. You might be minus a boyfriend if you do." Sherlock sat up abruptly.

"Why would that be John?" Sherlock's voice was cold and threatening.

"Because his father is a police super intendant. Really, Sherlock. Why do I know more about your boyfriend than you do?"

Sherlock got a shark's grin. "Because we don't do a lot of talking John." John rolled his eyes.

"TMI, mate." John looked at Sherlock's bed and knew why his roommate had elected to take John's instead. It was covered in… things. John pulled out the garbage pail and began clearing off Sherlock's bed.

"So the police haven't found out anything?" John asked as he put Sherlock's violin to side on Sherlock's desk.

"No and they won't let me see the crime scene photos. I could solve this. I'm sure of it."

"Right, like a fourteen year old boy is smarter than the whole police force."

Sherlock laid back down again. "Of this police force apparently so. Damn! I don't want to have to ask Mycroft for a favor."

"You could always talk to Victor's dad. Tell him it's for a school project or something."

Sherlock leaped up and kissed John on the lips and dashed out the door. "You're brilliant, John."

John stood in the middle of the room, confused. He didn't understand what just happened. Or how it made him feel. He should feel disgusted but he couldn't bring himself to think anything about Sherlock as disgusting. Not even his cleaning habits. John ended it up cleaning up both sides of the room.

John wasn't sure what he felt. Even confusion seemed to come and go. His best mate had kissed him on the lips. It felt warm and sweet. _Should it feel that way?_ John asked himself. He decided that Sherlock was merely excited and didn't even realize what he'd done. And John sure the hell wasn't going to ask. He'd forget about it and go on that date with Mary and enjoy himself.

_Yes, that's right. You've got a date with the prettiest girl in the school, the girl who had turned down all the major players at the school, if the rumors were to be believed. That's right Johnny boy. You. No one else._

John marveled at that but she told him that most guys stopped trying to ask her out after awhile. He sent Molly a bouquet of her favorite flowers, pink alstroemerias as a thank you. He bet that that confused the hell out of her roommate.

John went down for dinner and saw that Sherlock and Victor weren't there. Sighing he sat down, grateful that he didn't have to face them so soon after the incident. He didn't think that he could keep the blush from his cheeks. Greg came up behind him and clapped him on the back.

"I hear congrats are in order, mate." Greg smiled.

"Come again…" John wasn't sure what the dorm head meant.

"You've got a date with the prettiest girl in school." Greg enthused.

"Oh, right. Yeah. I did a favor for Molly and she introduced us." Greg went silent and John looked up at him. He looked thoughtful.

"You okay there, Greg?"

"You know Molly?"

"Um… yeah… we are talking about the mousy girl who's Sherlock's shadow, right?" John's confused state was back. He starting to wonder if the world had gone suddenly, irreparably mad.

Greg nodded. "Wait. Do you have a crush on Molly?"

"Oi! I think she's pretty, alright." Greg replied tersely.

"No. She is. She really is. But dude why haven't you asked her out?" John asked in wonder. He had never known Greg to be shy about anything and yet here he was afraid to ask a ten year out.

"I'm two years older than she is and…"

"Dumb ass." John said cutting him off. "You're coming with me, idiot." He grabbed Greg's upper arm and lead him to the fountain. Molly was sitting there in her uniform reading their English homework.

"Hey, Moll. Where you at in the book?" John asked nodding to the book in her hands.

"'What are men to rocks and mountain?'' Molly quoted. Greg looked crestfallen.

"Ooh, just before Pemberbley. I love that part. Darcy is so smooth in that scene." Greg looked confused.

"Yeah. It's one of my favorite books. Though I like her 'Persuasion' better. The idea that true love waits no matter what." John laughed.

"I never thought I'd say this but I might want to look into that. Me reading Jane Austen willingly. My sister is going to laugh her ass off when she finds out." Greg elbowed John in the ribs.

"Ow! I was getting to you. Be patient." John shoved him to the side. "Molly, this git is my rugby captain. He wanted to meet you." Greg hissed and turned bright pink.

"Oh, Greg Lestrade. I've seen you play last year. Nice to meet you." She stuck out her hand and Greg turned it over gently and kissed her knuckles.

"If I knew John's friends were so pretty…" Greg intoned. And Molly went bright pink.

John looked between the two of them and rolled his eyes.

"So Molly did you get the flowers I sent you?" John asked attempting to break up the tension.

Greg looked over at John sharply.

"You bought her flowers?" he asked suspiciously.

"Yeah, I got them John. Sally thought they were from Anderson. Boy was she surprised to find out they were for me."

"That was the intention." John grinned.

"Oi! Hey, why did he by you flowers?" Greg asked Molly but he seemed to be directing the comment to John.

"They were a thank you present for introducing me to Mary. You know the girl I'm going out with on Friday?"

"You buy a girl flowers for that?"

"I do, yes."

"Okay…"

John shrugged. "My mom taught me that a girl appreciates flowers no matter the occasion and since she told what her favorite flower was, I thought it'd be a nice gesture."

"Which it was, thank you John." Molly interceded. Greg snapped around at her tone.

"I wasn't saying that you didn't deserve flowers, Molly. I just- I mean- well…" Greg blushed a deep crimson.

"What this idiot is trying to say, is he doesn't want you getting flowers from other guys." John said, coming to the rescue. Well, at least he thought so, Greg on the other hand was shooting him a death glare.

"Oh." Molly blushed.

John elbowed Greg in the ribs and hissed, "Ask her."

"Um… I was wondering if you wanted to go to the movies with me this weekend?"

"You want to go with me?" You could have knocked the poor girl over with a feather she was so stunned.

"Um… unless you don't want to, than that's fine. I'll just be going now…"

John thwapped him up side the head.

"Oi! Dickweed, the girl hasn't answered you."

"I'd love to go. What do you want to see?" Molly gushed.

"I'll leave you two to it then." John wandered off and spotted Mary under the oak tree and smiled as he walked over to her. _Is that two people I've hooked up now? Are they going to start calling me Cupid now?_ But at least he'd returned the favor with Molly.


	9. A Consulting What Now?

**A/N: Hey, we move forward in the plot! Yay! And Mr. Trevor's name is pronounced "Graham" just for reference. And kudos to anyone who catches the ACD canon reference. I hope my deductions are okay. There's a reason I skimmed over that bit when we met John. I don't think I do it very well.**

* * *

Sherlock had spent the afternoon hiding out in his room going through his closet looking through his wardrobe trying to find something that would be appropriate for meeting the parents of his boyfriend. He was despairing when John walked in.

"God!" Sherlock screamed at him. "This is your fault!" John lifted his eyebrow in query.

"I'm going to meet Victor's parents tonight to get the police report and I don't know what I should wear!" Sherlock ran his hands through his hair in frustration.

"When are you leaving?"

"Argh! I'm not now! I don't know what I should wear!" Sherlock screamed.

John walked over and took Sherlock's face in his hands. "Sherlock." the voice was soothing. "Look at me." Sherlock's eyes snapped forward meeting John's eyes.

"It's going to be all right. Calm down. First off, when are you leaving?" John repeated his question.

"In an hour." Sherlock pouted.

"Right. Now have you gotten your shower?" John's voice stayed level and soothing. Sherlock nodded. "Good, that's a start. Now this is the really important question. Are you being introduced as his friend or his boyfriend?" Sherlock's eyes went wide.

"Fr-friend," he stammered.

"All right so nothing too fancy then." Sherlock watched as John picked through the clothes littered on the floor.

"Do you have any t-shirts?" John asked about half way through the pile.

"No." Was Sherlock's short reply. John sighed and began rifling through his own drawers.

He handed Sherlock a pair of black trousers, a white dress shirt and a light blue t-shirt.

"I figure we're the same size. I might be shorter but I'm broader so I wear a large. And large is the only size that would fit your long frame."

"That's clever John. Thank you."

A few minutes later Sherlock came out buttoning his cuffs. John laughed.

"Not like that." John came over and unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled the sleeves up to just below the elbow on his forearm.

"Put on your trainers." John instructed. Sherlock did as he was bid. He looked at the result in the bathroom mirror and was shocked. The boy looking back at him was handsome. The light blue shirt brought out the color in his eyes and he looked nice but casual.

"How did you do that?" Sherlock asked, coming out of the bathroom.

"Do what?" John asked from his bed.

"Know what would look good on me?" Sherlock breathed.

"Just because I don't dress fashionably doesn't mean that I don't know how to look good. I just prefer comfortable clothes."

Sherlock frowned. He was about to say something more when a knock came on the door. John went to get it as Sherlock was still thinking.

"Oh hey, Victor. Yeah he's ready." Sherlock heard John say. He looked up to see Victor walk in. Victor's jaw fell slack.

"Close your mouth, Victor." John said, as he closed the door behind him. Victor did as he was told. There was something about John's tone that booked no argument. John had used the same tone when he was helping Sherlock dress for tonight. Sherlock didn't doubt that he was doing his best imitation of his father's military bark.

Victor kissed Sherlock's cheek. "Let's go love." Sherlock forced a smile to his face. He was trying to understand the enigma that was John Watson. Every time Sherlock thought he had John figured out there was a new layer to reveal.

Sherlock forced John out of his mind and focused on Victor and trying to make a good impression on his parents.

There was a silver car waiting for them in front of their dorm. They got in and Victor smiled.

"Hello, Dorsey." He said as Sherlock fidgeted next to him.

"Hello, young Master. Your father especially charged me to take care of your needs tonight."

Victor laughed. "Apparently my father is as worried about making a good impression on you as you are on him. Dorsey here, is my father's gentleman." Sherlock raised his eyebrows. He didn't think that there were personal valets anymore.

"We are a dying breed to be sure but some of the old families still have one or two on retainer as well as the nouveau riche." Sherlock's head went up and caught the driver's eyes in the mirror.

"How did you know I thinking that?" Sherlock asked, curious.

"It's my job to know what my master is thinking before he thinks it." Sherlock blinked.

"That's impressive." Dorsey's smile reached his eyes but said nothing. Victor just laughed.

The rest of the drive was uneventful and they pulled up to the house. It was a nicely situated building on impressively kept grounds. It didn't have the imposing grandeur of Darkwood Manor but it seemed more homely.

Sherlock and Victor got out and Dorsey seemed to move from the car to front door in no time at all. He opened the door for the two boys and then took their coats. They were then ushered into the drawing room.

Victor's mother was a beautiful ginger with piercing green eyes and heart shaped face. Just looking at her caused Sherlock's heart to twist in his chest. His mother was gone. Taken by cancer. But it seemed unfair to wish that on Victor. His father seemed a stern man of auburn hair, his face adorned with a neat goatee. Sherlock thought he looked like a late 19th century professor, in his neat trimmed suit.

The man stood up to greet the two boys. "Ah Victor, so this is your friend? Introduce us." He commanded the youth.

"Father, this is Sherlock Holmes, son of Alstan Holmes, the noted banker and philanthropist. Sherlock, this is my father Graeme Trevor, super intendant for the local police. This is my mother Ailsa Trevor."

Sherlock was shocked by the sheer formality of it all but then was his family's cold indifference any better?

"It's pleasure to meet you Mr. Trevor." Sherlock said, extending his hand for the older man to take it. Mr. Trevor took his hand and shook it so hard Sherlock stumbled forward.

Sherlock looked up but saw no malice in the man's eyes. It was strange really.

"Welcome to Kentigern, Sherlock." Mr. Trevor said as he let go of the youth's hand.

"Thank you, sir." It chaffed Sherlock to be this polite but he was trying to get something out of the man and angering him did not seem like the best method to do so.

"Please have a seat. Dinner will be ready in a half hour." Sherlock moved the chair across from the super intendant and Victor sat on the couch next to his mother.

"Victor tells me you have this little trick about figuring out a person just by looking at them." Mr. Trevor grinned.

"It's not a trick. It's observing." Sherlock sniffed defensively.

"Do it to me then."

"Oh, I couldn't sir. It'd be impolite to do so in your house." Victor was tense.

"I insist." Victor was in full panic mode.

Sherlock glanced over every inch of Mr. Trevor's form before he spoke up. "You are trying to quit smoking but it's not going so well as you snuck a cigar right before we arrived."

"Graeme!" Mrs. Trevor admonished.

"I'm sorry my dear." Mr. Trevor apologized.

"You like your job but wish you didn't have to wear suits every day. You prefer to spend time in your garden. Even though you have a gardener you like to do most things yourself. You spent your youth on a fishing vessel. In fact that's probably how you made your money." Sherlock looked him in the eyes. "So how'd I do?"

"Incredible. How did you know?"

"You kept tugging at your cuffs as though you couldn't get it sit straight. It could mean you're nervous but you deal with criminals and officers every day, meeting the friend of your son wouldn't phase you. Uncomfortable it is then.

"Then there's the dirt under your nails. As you have a desk job, it's highly unlikely that you would have gotten it at work. So where than? As we pulled up I saw freshly turned dirt next to the rose bushes. Same color and texture as what is under your nails. Now for the gardener. A house this big would have to have one but considering you did the weeding, he's more for show.

"As for the fishing vessel, you have scars on your hands that comes ropes and tackle. This house is old but your stamp on the house is not. You can still see touches of the previous owner. A Mr. Hudson apparently." Mr. Victor seemed shocked at that one. But Sherlock plowed on. "And lastly the cigar. There is ash on the top of suit coat pocket. From the pattern and color of the ash it's clearly a cigar. You had sprayed yourself with cologne recently. Which meant you were trying to cover up the smell of the smoke. Now why try to cover it up. Ah. Because you are trying to quit for your wife and didn't want her to know you had relapsed. Sorry about outing you by the way."

"Simply marvelous. That was incredible Sherlock." Mr. Trevor said, laughing heartily. Sherlock looked over at Victor and saw that he had relaxed a bit. "You would make a fine cop but for one thing."

"What's that, sir?" Sherlock asked, leaning forward.

"You have a problem with authority." Came the blunt response. Sherlock sat back.

"What make you say that, sir?" Sherlock crossed his legs and rested his head on his propped up hand.

"You clearly weren't going to deduce me until I challenged you and then you went all out. Do you deny it then?"

"No, sir. I don't deny it. I was just wondering what made you say so is all."

"Become a consulting detective Sherlock. You could help the police when they are out of their depth and not have to worry about silly bureaucratic nonsense." Mr. Trevor told him.

"But, sir, you're a bureaucrat." Sherlock told him.

Mr. Trevor smiled. "Doesn't mean I agree with the system all the time young man. It would be nice to see actual justice done and not have these hoodlums get away with it." He stood up and went to his desk. He pulled out a rather large file and he walked over and handed it to Sherlock.

"Think of this as your trail run so to speak on being a consulting detective. A test case as it were." Sherlock took the folder and opened it up. It was the Silver Blaze case.

"But this is an ongoing investigation, won't you get into trouble giving me this?" Sherlock purred. He was getting what he wanted but he had to resist a little or the super intendant would get suspicious.

"Nah. If you don't solve it, no harm done. If you do then the case gets solved and your horse is returned to you. And you get an in with the police. Well… I suppose it depends how threatened they are by you." Mr. Trevor chuckled.

Sherlock nodded. He handed it to Dorsey knowing the man would make sure that it got to him by the end of the night. Dinner was lovely and tasteful or it would have been if Sherlock more than picked at it.

"Something wrong with your meal, Sherlock?" Mrs. Trevor asked. It was only the second time she had spoken all night and Sherlock had a hard time getting a read on her, she seemed so vacant.

"Oh no, ma'am. I don't eat much normally. Victor and my roommate John are always trying to get me to eat. They aren't always successful." He took a bite. "It's really very good." he told her after he swallowed.

She smiled and went back to her food. The rest of the evening dragged on peacefully and finally it came time to take the boys home. Mr. Trevor pulled Victor to the side but Sherlock managed to catch what they said.

"Congratulations my boy. You finally picked a friend who is not only rich but comes from one of the most influential families in England!"

"Father, that's not why we're friends." Victor protested.

"It doesn't matter my boy! You can get into places you couldn't before with the name Holmes on your lips!" Sherlock heard a loud clapping noise and figured that Mr. Trevor had clapped Victor on the back.

"Yes, father." Victor muttered.

"Good, lad. Now go on." Victor trudged back to Sherlock and didn't even glance up. Dorsey handed them their coats and opened the doors to the house and to car for them.

"Now, young master, you know he just wants you to have opportunities he didn't." Victor nodded numbly. The drive home was silent. Sherlock took Victor into his arms and held him. He didn't know what he should say. John would know but John wasn't here now. Sherlock just hoped that Victor would take comfort in his presence.


	10. The Final and the Scalpel

**A/N: And Sherlock is back to normal. He was WAY too fluffy in that last chapter. Also what are your opinions on the scene from Pride and Prejudice they should do?**

* * *

John was doing his chem. homework when Sherlock walked in to their room. He looked at the large file in his roommate's hand and then at his roommate's face. John moved to stand, to bring comfort to his friend. Sherlock stalled him with a single glance. A look that clearly said he didn't want to be touched. A look of pure torment.

Sherlock tossed the file on his desk like it didn't matter like it wasn't the reason he left their room to begin with. He then promptly threw himself on his bed and buried his face in the pillow.

"Well, you got the file, so something must have gone right, Sherlock." John said after he watched his friend for awhile. Sherlock rolled over to face him.

"I hate people, John. Why must they be so petty and cruel?"

"Not Victor, surely!" John blurted out before the realization that that couldn't be right hit him.

"No!" Sherlock confirmed. He jumped off the bed and start pace on his side of the room. "His father. And maybe his mother too. I don't know. I couldn't get a good read on her." Sherlock ran his fingers through his hair in frustration.

"Ah." John cocked his head to the side. "Let me guess, Mr. Trevor was nice to you but awful to Victor?" Sherlock stopped his pacing and whipped around to face John.

"How did you know?" he demanded of John.

"My father does it all the time with me and Harry. Nice to me but hard on her." John sighed. "I've always been naturally gifted when it came to certain things. Harry would work for weeks on a book report and barely scrap out an B." John rubbed the side of his face.

"And you would put in the minimum effort and get an A." Sherlock finished for him.

"Pretty much, or at least an A- or B+."

Sherlock stuck his hands in his pockets. "Does she resent you for it?" Sherlock asked, curious.

"She doesn't show it. But I don't doubt that on some level she must." Sherlock crossed over to the and gave John's shoulder a squeeze.

Sherlock smirked. "I thought you were suppose to be trying to make me feel better John, instead I seem to be trying to cheer you up." John chuckled weakly.

"I guess we're quite the pair, aren't we? Both damaged and yet…" John trailed off. _And where do you think you are going with that thought, Johnny-boy? Hmm? _John had no idea if he was honest with himself. This was Sherlock. Who had a boyfriend. Let's not forget he had a date on Friday with Mary. It wasn't as though the kiss was his first or particularly good. In fact it was a bit rubbish really. More like a quick peck than an actual kiss. So why the _hell_ couldn't he let it go?

"Yes." Sherlock agreed, his warm baritone low. It sent a shiver down John's spine.

_Stop it!_ He told his mind. He focused on the heart shaped blond face and drove out all thoughts of his dark haired roommate.

John decided to change the subject. "What are you going to about that?" He nodded to the large file on the other boy's desk.

"You want to help?" Sherlock asked.

"I'll do what I can I guess. You're far more clever than I am."

"As always you sell yourself short." Sherlock grabbed the file and brought it over John's bed.

Sherlock kicked off his trainers and crawled up on the bed and leaned against the headboard. John put his homework on his desk and leaned over Sherlock's shoulder as he opened the file.

It showed gruesome images of their teacher with his head bashed in laying in the grass face up. They looked at the foot and hoof prints. There was something strange about them but John couldn't quite place it. The next picture showed a strange glittering object the grass. The next was after they fished it out. John gasped.

"What is John?" Sherlock asked.

"What the hell was he doing with a gauge 4 scalpel?" John breathed. He'd seen his father use one when a patient stumbled into their house and his father had to do emergency surgery on the spot. Had John hold the man's head to keep him as calm as possible.

"What is used for, John?" Sherlock asked.

"Cutting large tissue. The calf, the thigh, places like that."

Sherlock brow furrowed. They continued to look over the file but soon it was late and they had class in the morning. They put the file down and they got ready for bed.

As John laid his head down his last thought before sleep was, _Damn! I never did finish my chem. homework._

When he woke up the next morning Sherlock was propped up on his bed. The file in his hands. John was a little disappointed. He thought that they were going to look over it together. _I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. This Sherlock after all. Ever curious._

Sherlock looked up. "Oh good John, you're awake." John rubbed his eyes.

"Am I? It doesn't feel like it. How long have you been up?" John asked as he rifled through his drawers looking for clean shirts. He sighed as he knew he'd have to do laundry soon. Pulling out his last clean uniform shirt, he pulled it on.

As he stood there buttoning it up, he felt a pair of eyes on him. He was buttoning the top button when he looked up.

"Something up, Sherlock," he asked as he moved to the cuffs. He pulled out the tie and moved to the bathroom to tie it in the mirror. He came out and pulled on his trousers and buckled the belt. Still not a word from his roommate as threw on a sweater waistcoat and then his school jacket.

John went about finishing his homework from the night before, as he didn't think that his teachers would accept 'going over a police report' as an excuse for not doing it.

Still Sherlock hadn't said a word. John sighed as realized that he was looking at the same problem for the past five minutes without moving his pencil once. He turned to his roommate. As near as he could tell Sherlock hadn't moved the entire time.

"Alright Sherlock spill, what's up?"

"John." was the only word out his friend's mouth.

"Yes?" John inquired.

Sherlock turned away. "Nothing." He went back to the file and continued to read it.

"Sherlock?" but the dark haired boy continued to ignore him. "Is this about me knowing about the scalpel?" He asked. It was the only thing he could think of.

"I know your _father _is a doctor. So how did _you_ know?" Sherlock snapped.

John shrugged. "Sometimes dad would bring patients at home. He'd have me help. He wants me to be a doctor like him."

Sherlock glared at him and then went back to his reading. _Right. Rule number one with Sherlock. Never be cleverer than he is. _ John sighed. He finished up his homework though he was sure he got three and seven wrong but he didn't want to try and figure out where he went wrong. It was almost time for class anyway.

"You swapped the variables on three and seven is copper not iron." said the warm voice next to his ear.

John jumped. "Shite, Sherlock! How long have you been standing there?"

"About five minutes."

John looked at the two problems and knew Sherlock was right of course. Chemistry was something Sherlock excelled at after all.

_Chemistry is more than formulas and equations, it also implies emotions and interactions between two people. And there is a lot of chemistry in this room._ No matter how John would want to deny it. Sherlock and he had chemistry. That didn't mean that it was sexual or romantic. It just meant they worked well together. And so that what he'd been feeling yesterday was chemistry.

He fixed his mistakes with a shuddering sigh as it released the tension in his chest. "Thanks Sherlock." He said as he began putting his stuff into his bag.

"You're welcome."

John stood up. "Does this mean you aren't mad at me anymore?" Sherlock blushed.

"I'm just not use to people knowing something about a case that I don't. Yes, yes, this technically my _first_ case but I had solved puzzles like this before. It's a game Mycroft and I use to play as children."

"I'm guessing you didn't play Mr. Crocodile or It, then?" John chuckled. Sherlock looked at him confused.

"What's that?"

"Figures." He didn't mean to hit the nail on the head like that. He had only been joking after all. "Games children play on the playground."

"Oh, right. Mummy didn't like us going to the playground. She was afraid that we'd get hurt and then after…" Sherlock swallowed the lump that formed in his throat. "Anyway we didn't play with other children much."

"Alright." John let it drop. He had clearly struck a nerve and didn't want to press further.

They handed in there homework and by the end of class it was handed back to them, John smiled fondly when he saw he got all of them right. Thanks to his roommate.

Then it was time for English. JC was already there. Usually he liked to make an entrance but he was writing on the white board with his back turned to the class. Once he was done he turned to them and flashed them a toothy grin.

"Welcome class."

"Hello, JC." the class chanted back.

"Alright it's time to hand out your final. I realize that's it's not even midterm yet but I wanted to give you all plenty of time to get it done. Over the past few weeks we had been discussing 'Pride and Prejudice'. So what I want you to do is to get together with a partner and pick your favorite scene and modernize it. Everything including the language."

There were some muttering and glances. As much as John wanted to be with Mary he knew that no one would want to be with Sherlock. He sighed resignedly. John spared a backward glance at Mary but she just giggled and went over to stand next to Molly. John let out a breath that he didn't know he was holding. He had been worried that another boy would be her partner but she had chosen to partner with Molly. He could live with that.

"Hello, John." Sherlock looked up at him. "You volunteering to be my partner then?" His eyes flashed with an indignant anger.

"Yes because you're my best friend and besides Mary's partnering with Molly." Sherlock's eyebrow went up skeptically. John ran his hand over his face and sighed.

"Do you not want to partner with me?" John asked.

"It's why you want to partner with me, John. I don't _need _your pity!" He spat out the last word with such venom that John stepped back.

"Oi! You git! I want to partner with you. I was worry that another _boy_ would partner with Mary because was worried that she would be spending long hours with him. But because she's with Molly, I don't have to worry."

Sherlock looked confused. "Sentiment?"

"Yes." Sherlock sighed.

"Alright. What scene do you want to do?" Sherlock relented.

"My favorite is the exchange in Rosings between Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth over the piano."

"Hmm… I'm not sure it's long enough." Sherlock observed.

"You know everyone else is going to do one of proposal scenes." John had spoken a little too loud and the whole class looked at him in shock. JC chuckled.

"Thanks for that Watson. Now I don't have to read a dozen variation of the same scene." Everyone around them scrambled to find a different scene.

"You're welcome, sir!" John called out smiling. JC chuckled again.


	11. The Mind Palace

Sherlock still was wasn't sure John was telling the truth but it felt better than being alone. He had thought that alone was fine. More than fine, preferred. But John Watson breezed into his life and suddenly he was warm, he was safe, he was wanted. He had been bullied his whole life but in the few short weeks since John came to this school the bullying has receded to mere name calling. He's still "The Freak" after. Not even John could change that.

But what John could do is make the name seem more like a badge of honor than the insult they made it out to be. To be unusual. To be different. Not only was it okay to be so, it was a good thing. It meant that he wasn't just part of the crowd, he was special. By making him feel special, Sherlock was able to turn that around and make Victor feel special too. He had never had the desire to want to be there for someone before and now he had two.

He wasn't sure about this assignment however. Taking a scene from a book that was at least a couple centuries old and updating it? Sherlock knew that John was enjoying the book but he didn't he couldn't wait for it to be over with so he could delete it from his hard drive.

He didn't need the useless information clouding up something so valuable as the space in his mind palace. He opened up his mind palace and took a stroll through the data he had collected. He found to his amusement that he had three new rooms in his palace. Lestrade, Victor and John. He smiled at the last one.

He was always learning new things about his roommate. He opened the door to this room and walked in. It was bright and sunny. In one corner was John's rugby kit. The boy's med-kit lay propped up on the bed. It was open. Sherlock peered into the box with curiosity. In it was the bruise cream and the wrap John had used when those asswipes beat Sherlock within a inch of his life. Then there was the scalpel from the Silver Blaze case. Sherlock picked it up and held it in his hand.

Sherlock knew he shouldn't have gotten so angry that John knew something he didn't. John knew all sorts of things that he didn't. Granted most of those things were pop culture references but John had a different life than Sherlock so of course he had a different knowledge and skill set than he did. He wouldn't expect John to know which fork was for fish and which one was for salad. As for as John was concerned, there was one for everything. Just like Sherlock had no idea about rugby.

But it was his first real case and he wanted to solve it by himself. But that was becoming more and more clear that he needed John to help him. Sherlock was a cynical boy, with finely honed abilities to narrow into the minute details but John tended to see the big picture and maybe that's what he needed. He was so focused on the details that he couldn't see the complete puzzle.

Usually he could see the small pieces falling together to make the big picture but this time he found he couldn't tear himself away from the details. As much as Sherlock hated to admit it he was too emotionally attached to the case. He wanted to find Silver Blaze. Bring him home.

He walked out of the room labeled John and closed the door behind him and with it he hoped the emotions for this case. It was time to concentrate on his home work and he went to the temporary room that held the useless information. He flipped mindlessly through the book looking for a scene that he and John could update. He immediately went to chapter John suggested and groaned. It would be long enough technically. What bothered him however was the difficulty of updating it.

It was a simple chapter. And it was a small family party where the two protagonists bantered over each others faults. Making the language modern wouldn't be too much of a problem. No it was the reason they were there and why they were… oh! They called it flirting now days. It could work. Now why would they be thrown together like this…? In the book Elizabeth was staying with a friend. Now the friend wouldn't be friends with the de Bourghs. Charity case? No. But the husband was a cleric. Even today clerics were allowed anywhere.

The daughter of landed gentry being friends with a clergyman's wife would be welcome. But what was the modern equivalent? The problem the de Bourghs had with the protagonist was that though she was equal with them status wise but that her family wasn't rich. Her father's estate was to be given to the odious cousin on his demise.

_Argh! _Sherlock thought, frustrated. He would have to discuss it with John and see if he had any ideas. He exited his mind palace and went to find John. He tried their room first and heard a faint buzzing in the bathroom. He looked up at the clock and realized he had spent all of lunch and his last two classes thinking. He cursed and knew that he would have to apologize to his teachers.

"Sherlock? Is that you?" the buzzing had stopped and John poked his head out of the bathroom.

"Hey where did you go? Mr. Smily was pissed." Sherlock heard the clatter of the razor hitting the counter and John came out, with a worried expression on his face.

"It was an accident. I didn't mean to. I was thinking about the case and I actually thought it was still lunch time. I'll go and make my amends. Though really there is nothing I will say that will make Mr. Smiley like me. And of course there's the fact that they still won't let us back into the stables. So I didn't miss that class technically."

John laughed. "Calm down. I'm not angry with you. I was just worried is all."

"I don't understand why." Sherlock complained.

"Because, yes I scared off Anderson and his cronies but I know schools there is never just gang of bullies. Some are far more devious in their bullying. I was worried one these may have caught you."

Sherlock shook his head.

"Well I'm glad. Are you and Victor going out tonight? I think Greg and Molly are going to see a movie and me and Mary-"

"Mary and I," Sherlock corrected absently.

John threw his pillow at him and Sherlock laughed.

"_We_ are going to the new Italian restaurant." John finished and then ducked as the pillow took flight.

"Oi! I just brushed my hair!" John complained.

"Not as though anyone could tell the difference!" Sherlock snarked back. John broke into a grin and Sherlock was grinning too. Suddenly they were laughing.

"So you two anything?" John gasped once he had air to breathe.

"I'm not sure. We don't have anything planned at any rate." Sherlock shrugged.

"Okay. Well you two don't get into too much trouble, alright?" Sherlock nodded. He laid down on the bed and put his hands behind his head. He lay there a moment before he realized that he was suppose to be working on his homework with John. _Damn!_ he cursed.

He got up and pulled out his phone. He sent a text to Victor.

_Roommate gone for the night. SH_

_:) mine too VT_

_Your place or mine? SH_

_hmm… rooming with the dorm head has taught me one thing and that's that even if he's not home people still come around for things VT_

_So my place it is. SH_

_;) see you soon VT_

Sherlock grinned. He hadn't been lying to John when he said that when he was Victor there wasn't a lot of talking involved. They had far more interesting things to do with their time.

Sherlock opened the door before Victor had the chance to knock. Victor smiled.

"Someone's in a hurry." Victor chuckled. Sherlock mashed his lips against the older redhead's. He closed his eyes and drank in the scent of the older teen.

"You are the most incredible thing that has ever happened to me…" Sherlock murmured against his boyfriend's lips.

Victor laughed. "You must have had a horrible life to think _I'm_ the most incredible thing that has happened to you." Sherlock stepped back. He looked to the floor. He felt Victor's hands grip his arms. "Sherlock?"

Sherlock didn't look up. "Oh sweetie," Victor cried and pulled his love into his arms. Sherlock just stood there breathing in the warmth of the older boy. Victor led him over to bed.

"Tell me about it Sherlock. I'm here for you." Sherlock just shook his head. It had been seven years and he still couldn't talk about it.

"Could you tell John?" Victor asked, trying to keep the bitterness from seeping through. Sherlock shook his head again.

"It's not something I talk about to anyone, Victor. I've tried. I just… I just can't." He sobbed into his lover's shoulder.

"Shh… it's okay. Sh… I've got you now." Victor pulled Sherlock onto his lap and let the youth cry silently. Victor usually didn't like messy relationships but when one is with Sherlock Holmes, messy is what your were dealt. He knew Sherlock had problems with bullying due to his intelligence and razor sharp personality. But what if it was more than that? What if Sherlock was different because of how he was raised? Victor could sympathize. He hadn't had the best life growing up, either.

"Were you jealous?" came the small voice on his lap.

Victor's mind first went to John and almost blurted out _yes!_ but something cut him short.

"Of what?" he thought he better make sure he knew what Sherlock was talking about.

"Of how your father treated me?"

"Oh." Right. They were talking about their home life. Victor sighed. "Not of you in particular but to see him actually treat _someone_ like that blew my mind. I didn't know he had it in him, to be honest."

"I'm sorry." Sherlock rarely uttered those two words and even rarer did he mean them. He meant them now.

"Why are we talking about me anyway?" Victor asked, chuckling.

"Well… John suggested that it wasn't appropriate that he knew about you than I did."

Victor raised his eyebrow. "You know what I have for breakfast, which horse I rode that morning, or which classes I have homework in just by glancing at me, how does he know me better than you do?"

"I didn't know anything about your family or anything like that before I met them."

"What do you need to know that for anyway? You aren't dating them, you're dating me. And you know what I like…" Victor purred. Sherlock's breath caught in his chest as those hazel eyes crept closer.

Sherlock felt the breath before he tasted the lips and he moaned. "I know _exactly_ what you like." Sherlock breathed.

"Hmm… so show me…" Victor muttered. Sherlock proceeded to do just that. He pulled Victor on top of him and moaned into his ear. "Like this…"

"Oh yes…" Victor muttered. Sherlock slid his hands down Victor's sides causing the redhead to gasp. "Oh god!"

Sherlock smiled as he watched his lover come undone at such a simple touch. "I know you like that. You know what else you like?"

Victor's eyes were blown wide and he was panting, not able to answer. Sherlock chuckled. "You like this…" he took Victor's hands and placed them on his chest. Victor was gone. He began to undress his lover, placing a kiss on his lips every time he undid a button.

"Oh Victor!" Sherlock cried out.

When they finished, they were a tangled mess of arms and legs. Victor snuggled against Sherlock's chest.

"When is the roommate coming home?" Victor muttered into Sherlock's nipple. Sherlock cried out.

"Mm… ten I think…" Sherlock was having trouble thinking when Victor was naked in his arms.

"Hmm… what time is now?" Victor replied sleepily.

Sherlock looked at the alarm clock. "7:30."

Victor just nodded and dosed off. Sherlock smiled.


	12. The British Government

**A/N: God damn it. Last week was not one for writing so you have my deepest apologies for not getting this up sooner. I was almost done Friday night but the weekend happened and there was just no getting anything done. *sigh* I hope the chapter is well worth the wait.**

* * *

John had to admit helping Molly was the best idea ever. Not only did it mean sticking up for Sherlock it meant being with the prettiest girl of their school. At dinner they laughed and chatted like they had been friends for years. Her brown eyes lit up like stars, she would turn her head causing her hair to fall in front of her face and she would shyly brush it behind her ear.

John was so completely smitten that the night passed within a blink of an eye. He walked her to the front of her dorm as boys weren't allow inside. She smiled and he took the chance. He leaned in for a kiss and was rewarded by her wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer. When they finally broke it off they stared at each other panting.

"Wow." John said. He didn't think that there _was_ a word that described how incredible that was.

"Thanks for the amazing night, John." she muttered her head tilted down as she looked up through her eyelashes.

"Next time we'll see a movie. Your choice." John breathed.

"It's a date." She walked up the doors and then turned and waved. John was on cloud nine. He leaped into the air and was jumping up and down and screaming and all manner of things that would have be looked on as crazy had someone not been watching the whole scene. But someone had been watching. Someone in a darken car with tinted windows. A man with whom anyone would have said exuded an air of danger and ice.

When John had come down from his high, the windows of the car rolled down and voice called out from within. "Get in the car, John." John looked at the car and then around him.

"There is no one around but you and me. Would you kindly get into the car, John?"

John didn't have a choice he got into the car, when he got in he barely make out the outlining of a man. The man called out to the driver.

"Drive on."

They sat in silence as the car drove out the school gates and to the streets below.

"Is there any way I can get you to tell me where we're going?" John asked as he saw the town pull into view.

"No." came the short reply.

"Right. Thought not." and they drifted back to silence. John continued to watch as the town moved on by. He continued to watch the town as it slowly faded from view.

"So is this the part where you take me to an abandoned warehouse and make veiled and unveiled threats?"

The man beside him laughed. "No, nothing of the sort, John. I simply wished to speak with you without being interrupted." He had a nice laugh for someone who had essentially kidnapped him.

They were taken to a nice country estate just out of the town boundaries. It was quiet and comfortable and John couldn't help but like the place.

"Welcome to my home." the man said as the car stopped.

"It's very nice." John said as he got out. The man followed behind and allowed the manservant to open the front door. He led the way to a small study that had John's jaw drop to the floor. If there was a room that was more perfectly suited to him he'd had seen it. All it needed was books on medicine and it would be complete. As it were there were books on politics and wars. As much as John was a war nut he knew that battles were never simple 'two opposing sides' politics played heavily into any war.

"What's your favorite war?" the man asked behind him. John jumped.

"Sorry. You have a lovely collection. For me, it's the first World War. There is just something about the clash of the ideals of the past and destruction of the weapons of the future."

"That is a very informed answer, John."

John blushed at the praise. "Thank you." John turned and looked that the man and was struck by how much he looked like... well like Sherlock.

"Please have a seat John."

"So _you're_ the British government." John chuckled.

"My brother does love to be dramatic. I occupy a small position in the British government."

"Oh, yeah. One that is connected to the foreign office, MI-6 and Secret Service."

John would have said that Mycroft was surprised but surely one such as him didn't _show _surprise. "Sherlock _has_ been chatty. He's never been so open with anyone before."

"I gathered that, yeah." John scoffed.

"You must have questions," Mycroft smirked.

"Why did you haul me all the way out here? Really? We could have gone to town, it's such a sleeper town I doubted anyone would have even batted an eye."

Mycroft laughed. "Clever John. I take it you don't like sleepy hamlets."

"God no. Give London any day of the week."

"The reason I brought you out here is that it means that my brother wouldn't disturb us."

"Ah. Yes, I've noticed he likes to follow me. I suppose the only reason he didn't follow me on my date is because Victor probably kept him occupied."

"That was another thing that surprised me. I didn't realize my brother had any sexual urges."

"Urgh. That's too much information."

"My apologies. I didn't not mean to put it so indelicately. I only meant that he wasn't interested in anyone pass the odd experiment. It's why had I to meet you. You have known my brother barely over a month and you have him socializing, dating, and eating. Perhaps even sleeping. Which he hasn't done a lot of since he was seven."

"Why is that?" John asked.

"Several reasons really, the biggest contributor I cannot tell you. He has to you himself. I'm sorry." John nodded. It was a trust thing. "The other more obvious and frankly more annoying reason, is that he thinks if he sleeps than his mind will miss something important."

"Like what?" John inquired moving forward in his seat interested.

"Who knows. I have heard him say on many occasions that he thought his body was mere transport. That he didn't need his body just his mind."

"Oh yes, never mind that his body is what makes that brain heard. Idiot."

Mycroft smile gently. "Quite. I usually offer money to spy on Sherlock at this point of the conversation..." Mycroft trailed off.

"But?"

"But I don't have to. I know he's not going to do anything too destructive or dangerous because you are around. That's not say he won't get into trouble, I'm just saying I trust you to pull him out again."

John nodded. "You give Victor the 'you break his heart I break' your legs speech yet?" He joked and Mycroft chuckled with him.

"I didn't think it was necessary. I have a... certain reputation." Mycroft hedged.

"You'll pardon the colloquialism, but... duh." John rolled his eyes. Mycroft sighed.

"Well, yes. There are certain things I could do that would make anyone's life more difficult and the more grievous the insult the more difficult their life becomes. Though I will admit that a small slight to Sherlock is almost as great as a major one to my person. I had the benefit of being able to sociably active in my youth something that Sherlock either couldn't or wouldn't do. So what would roll off most people's backs as a minor thing would be devastation to my little brother."

"I can see that. Maybe what I did wasn't a good thing." John looked down at the hands folded in his lap.

"I would have to disagree with you there. It is never too late to learn social mores and the sooner my brother learns them the better. I worry about him. Constantly."

"I guess so. I'm just worried what will happen when we go to uni."

Mycroft leaned forward. "John, that is in nearly three years. Don't worry about that now. Enjoy your youth have fun. Like what you were doing before I picked you up. She looked like quite the lovely girl."

"She is. Now I don't feel quite like a fifth wheel anymore."

Mycroft tilted his head to side, "Don't you mean third?"

John laughed, "No, definitely fifth. There's Sherlock and Victor. Victor's roommate Greg and his girlfriend Molly."

"Oh dear. That must have been hard. Being the only one not attached."

"It was. Thankfully it was only a week." John shook his head.

"A week of torment is a lifetime nonetheless." Mycroft said sympathetically.

"You know, you aren't anything like Sherlock portrayed you to be."

"John, I deal with diplomats, foreign dignitaries and heads of state on regular basis, I think I could charm one teenager."

John laughed. "At least you own up to it." John looked at his watch. "It's getting late. I don't thing the dorm head would let me off on this one. Even if he is my friend."

"Quite right John and explaining that your roommate's brother wanted a chat wouldn't be believed." Mycroft rung the bell and the man that opened the door appeared at his elbow. "Have Huston bring the car around."

"Very good sir." the man disappeared.

Mycroft got up and John followed him out. They got in car and it was a silent ride back, only it was a more companionable silence.

John snuck passed Greg's room and made it up to his. He opened the door quietly in case Sherlock was actually sleeping.

He was. And so was Victor. Luckily the two boys weren't entwined. John poked Victor gently. Victor startled awake. John pressed a finger to his lips. He looked down at a sleeping Sherlock and then back to the clock and silently cursed. John tossed him his clothes and pointed to the bathroom. Victor used his clothes to remain with a modicum of decency as he dashed to the bathroom.

John had the door held open when Victor came out. He ducked his head and went out into the hall and was even more ashamed when John followed him out.

"God John. I didn't mean to fall asleep."

John chuckled quietly. "It's okay. Honest. I'm surprised I have walked in on something like that before."

Victor shook his head. "He's got this thing about me being gone before you get back. He says he respects you too much." He ducked his again.

"I guess this means no bringing Mary back to the room then." John joked. Victor looked startled.

"You're actually dating her? I guess the date went really well then."

"Yeah it was great. I would have been home sooner but..." John wasn't sure if he should tell Victor about Mycroft. He might tell Sherlock and then Sherlock would be mad at him. He sighed. Sherlock would figure it out eventually.

"Big brother decided to have a chat with me." John finished lamely.

"Big brother? As in Sherlock's big brother?" Victor raised his eyebrows.

"The very same. It was the most enlightening conversation. But could you keep that between us for now? I'm going to tell Sherlock, just at a time that isn't going to having him going off on me like a maniac."

Victor laughed. "I won't tell Sherlock Big Brother kidnapped you, if you don't tell anyone else I almost didn't make it to my room tonight."

"Deal." John stuck out his hand and Victor took it. They pumped once and let go. John went back into the room and saw that Victor's leaving had left his roommate mostly uncovered. The sheet barely covering the important bits. John sighed and walked over to the sleeping youth. He tugged on the sheet and Sherlock moved enough so that John could pull it up over his chest.

"Sleep well my mad man." John whispered and got ready for bed. His life was now complete. He had the best friends in the world and now the prettiest girl was dating him. He fell asleep with a smile on his face.


	13. Christmas Time

**A/N: Hurray for fluffy! And it's a bit longer than I intended, it kinda got away from me. And I tease Johnlock fans again. Sorry about that. Also a heads up. This is the last fluffy chapter for awhile. I do horrible things to the boys in the next few chapters. Enjoy the fluff.**

* * *

The Christmas season was upon them and Sherlock had gone through the entire case file and felt there was something missing. Though he supposed that if he had shared with John like he said he was going to, it might have been easier. But Sherlock was stubbornly denying he needed help.

There was nothing for it, he was going to have to share the information with John during the two days he would be spending with his roommate over the holidays. He sighed. He didn't want to buy presents but John had somehow convinced him to at least get something for Victor. Which meant that logic followed that he had to get something for John and if he got something for John, he should get something for Greg and since Molly never left Greg's side these days it would be a bit not good not get her something too so while he was at it he might as well get something for his father and brother.

He ran his hands through his hair in frustration. So he made a list.

Victor- John suggested something romantic, what is romantic?  
John- That medical journal, he'd been eyeing every time they went to town  
Greg- Book on famous unsolved cases, was going to police academy next year  
Molly- Famous Female forensic leaders  
Father- new tie pin  
Mycroft- what the hell I'm suppose to get the man who literately has everything

Sherlock looked down at his list and moaned. He wanted to crumple it up and throw it away. He sighed again, he heard the door click open and he shoved the paper under his pillow. Maybe John would know what to get an obnoxious old sibling.

"Hey Sherlock!" John called. His arms full of wrapped presents. Sherlock hopped up to help him before they dropped.

"Thanks mate." John smiled. He pointed to a small box wrapped in silver paper. "No touching that one. I don't want you deducing it before you open it." Sherlock smirked. He had no intention of doing so. He wanted to be surprised.

"I need your help John. I know what to get everyone but Victor and Mycroft. I want to get Victor something nice but not something that screams in a relationship. And Mycroft is just impossible to buy for. I've never known what to get him. Not even when we were close as children."

John raised his eyebrow in amazement. Sherlock was taking this whole Christmas thing very seriously. "Well, what does Victor like besides you?"

"He likes horse back riding like I do. He's actually better than I am."

"While I still can't stay on the damn thing." John laughed. The few times Sherlock took him riding John always ended up in the mud.

"The horse senses your timorousness. You have to take control, not be controlled." John laughed again.

"Oh yes taking control of a beast weighing several times more than I do... easy that then?" This time Sherlock laughed.

"Easier than it looks yeah. But you are getting off the subject. What to get Victor?"

"So he likes horseback riding. Does he collect things, like pins or stamps, or figurines?"

"Not that I'm aware of. What did you get Mary?"

"Wouldn't help you there, mate. I got her a charm bracelet, with a rugby ball charm, with the intention of getting her more charms for her birthday, anniversaries, things like that."

"Sounds like you're committed to a relationship with her. What if it doesn't work out?" Sherlock was always afraid of these things.

"Then it doesn't work out and it gets shoved in a box somewhere never to see the light of day but I'm hopeful type person." Sherlock just nodded.

What do you get your boyfriend? Maybe he should ask Molly instead.

"I'll just ask Molly. Asking a straight boy about what to get another boy for romantic gift, is like asking a horse for flying lessons."

John laughed. "True enough. What are you getting Greg?"

"A book on famous unsolved murders. He's going into the police academy next year or the year after. He hasn't decided."

"Did he tell you that?" John asked but Sherlock shook his head. "Did Victor tell you that?" Another shake of the head. "Molly?" Again no. "Then how would you know?"

"Saw the application last time at dinner. He kept pulling it out and looking at it."

"So how do you know about the year?"

"The date was scratched out twice."

John nodded. "Well that'll go well with my present then."

"Oh? What did you get him?"

"A small leather bound notebook. He can use it to take case notes in." Sherlock nodded appreciatively.

"Maybe a new set of riding gloves?" John suggested.

"Brilliant!" Sherlock pulled out the paper and erased his earlier note and replaced it with riding gloves. He put the paper away before John could lean over to see what it was.

"Now for Mycroft."

John knew exactly what to get the elder Holmes boy but that would be telling Sherlock that they met and Sherlock _would_ not be happy with him at all.

"Tell me about him. Try to leave your prejudice behind. Close your eyes and imagine your brother."

Sherlock rolled his eyes but did as he was bid. "He's taller than I am, with reddish-brown hair. He's more stockily built. I like to tease him that he's getting fat but he's not really. He is every inch the politician. Three piece suits, umbrellas. He loves war and tactics. Famous politicians too and not just British ones either. He's actually fond of a couple American ones too." Sherlock opened his eyes.

"Which American politicians does he like?

"He likes the tenacity of Pres. Abraham Lincoln. Ran for senate several times and got defeated. Ran for president once and got elected. A fan of F.D.R too. Somehow convinced the public to elect him three times just so they wouldn't change presidents in the middle of the war."

"Okay. I've got a pretty good picture of him." John knew most of this stuff from just looking at the man's book collection but now he didn't have to worry about Sherlock finding out.

"I'd say a pocket watch or a biography on one of the American ones. He doesn't seem the type to buy something like that himself, considering he's the British government and all."

Sherlock nodded. He pulled out the paper and made a note.

"Thanks, John. Did you want to exchange our gifts with the friends or when we meet up for the holidays?"

"Ooh... tough question. I'll almost want to say the friend thing but I want to give it to you at my place." He blushed. He didn't want other people to see what he got the dark haired boy. He didn't want to explain the reason behind it in front of everyone else.

"The holidays it is then." But Sherlock shot him a curious glance.

A couple days before the start of the holidays they all got together for their exchange and were crammed in Greg and Victor's room sipping hot apple cider and munching on toffee. John's gift was already tucked in his suitcase with the gifts for his family and he was sure that his was the same tucked in John's suitcase.

Mary came too, mainly because Molly and Mary got each other something and John had something for her too.

They passed out presents and decided to go around in a circle and have everyone open up all their gifts at once and move on to the next person.

Greg started because it was his room. He opened Molly's first. It was his favorite aftershave and he gave her a peck on the cheek. She blushed. Victor got him the latest book from his favorite writer. Greg grinned like a mad man. He opened John's.

"Wow, John. This is awesome." It was brown weathered suede covered notebook that came with a small pen.

"It's refillable too. There's a little card in there where you can order more of that size." John explain.

He opened the last one. He ran his hands over the nice cover. "Thanks Sherlock. How did you know?" Sherlock just arched one delicate eyebrow and everyone laughed causing Greg to blush brightly.

Molly was next, she only had two, one from Greg and one from Mary. She opened the one from Greg first.

It was a silver band bracelet with Celtic designs on it.

"Thanks sweetie." She kissed his cheek. She opened Mary's and inside was a coupon for an ear piercing and nice pair of silver studs. She squealed and gave Mary a big hug.

"My parents won't be able to say anything about this! Thank you!" She was jumping up and down.

It was Victor's turn and again he only had two presents from Greg and Sherlock. Greg's was a bottle of lube.

"Oh ha ha, Greg." Victor muttered as he threw at his friend, who ducked and pulled another gift from under his chair.

"Oh come on man, it was too good a gag not to pass up." he said as he tossed his best friend his real present. Victor opened it warily. Inside was a scarf. It was bright red and wooly.

"Thanks man."

He opened Sherlock's. Inside was the nicest black sheep skin riding gloves he had ever seen. Victor leaned over and gave Sherlock a full on kiss on the lips. "Thanks love, they're gorgeous."

Then it was Sherlock's turn he had three presents. Everyone looked confused.

"John where's yours?" Greg asked confused.

"Oh, he's staying a couple days over the holidays so we're going to give ours to each other then."

Victor bristled. He had been told of course but he wished he had thought of it first. Sherlock was still coming over for New Years Eve but it upset him that John Watson beat him to Christmas.

Everyone else nodded and Mary gave his hand a squeeze.

Sherlock opened Molly's first. It was a book on the beginnings of forensics by a Dr. Bell. Sherlock thanked her warmly. Greg's was a chemistry set.

"I don't think my family is going to thank you for that." Sherlock laughed.

"To hell with your family, _I_ don't appreciate it!" John complained. Greg laughed. Then he opened Victor's gift. It was a riding crop.

"Now all I need is a horse." Sherlock chuckled.

"You sure it's for the horse Sherlock?" Greg chuckled. Victor went bright red and Sherlock hit Greg with it.

"Ow! Okay, okay! I'm sorry!" he called out as Sherlock continued to beat him with it drawing laughs around him.

"Hey, don't hit him with it!" John called. They all looked at him in shock, that he was taking someone else's side. "You'll ruin the pretty leather. You don't want to hit something as dirty as Greg."

"Oi! Hey!" as everyone laughed again. "What is this? Pick on Greg day?" Molly kissed him.

"No, love. That's every day."

"Now, look what you've done. You've turned me own girlfriend against me!" It got a small chuckle from the crowd.

It was John's turn. He opened Molly's first. It was a stethoscope. He smiled at her warmly. Everyone knew he wanted to be a doctor more than anything.

The next was Mary's, it was a short chain necklace.

"The guy that sold it to me assured me that guys wear them too." Mary said blushing. He put it one and came flush to his neck without it being tight.

"Perfect fit." he said beaming at her.

Greg's present was a new rugby ball.

"Yours was falling apart mate. It was due for the bin any second now." Greg explain. John nodded. He liked his ball but Greg was right, if he wanted to hold on to his, he would need something else to practice with.

"Thanks guys."

Mary opened John's first and smiled fondly at bracelet.

"Sheesh! It's like you two are married not dating." Greg complained. "Jewelry after just a couple months?" John and Mary just shrugged. They looked at each other and leaned forward to kiss.

"Merry Christmas, hon." John whispered.

"Get a room!" Greg catcalled.

"Sherlock I take it back. Hit him!" John said turning to his roommate. Sherlock grinned and started beating Greg again.

The last present was from Molly. Inside was a heart charm that had their initials with the letters BFF underneath. Molly held out her wrist and showed that she had one too.

"Thanks Mol." Mary said.

They spent the next couple hours laughing and telling stories about their worst Christmases. Sherlock's took the cake though. Finding out that your mother had cancer? Worst Christmas ever. They were a bit subdued after that but Sherlock assured them it wasn't a big deal. Everyone seemed to believe him but John noticed he leaned into Victor for support.

Sherlock noticed and gave him a wink, letting him know that he was fine. Honest. Sherlock knew that he wasn't really but John had the annoying habit of prying. Sherlock didn't mind it most of the time but this time it was not something he wanted to talk about. When they finally broke up, Sherlock rushed out to avoid a conversation with John.

He slowed when he realized that John wasn't rushing after him. He sighed. He didn't understand how John could press about somethings and then completely ignore others. Maybe he was picking up clues that Sherlock wasn't aware he was displaying. After all, that's what he did with his deducing after all. Picking up on things and coming up with the best possible answer.

He flopped on the bed and waited until he heard his roommate enter.

"John?" he inquired.

"I'm here Sherlock." His voice was warm and comforting.

"I- can we talk about what I said earlier? About my mother?" John smiled.

"Of course, Sherlock."

"She died about a year later. My family doesn't really celebrate Christmas for that reason. But you made it seem okay again."

"How old were you?" John asked.

"Seven. She taught me to play. She was so beautiful John." Sherlock went to his desk and pulled out a well worn picture. He walked over to John and held it out for John to take. John pulled it gently from his grasp and looked down at it.

In his hands was a woman about thirty-four years old with Sherlock's high cheekbones and dark curly hair. Her hair was long and her eyes a dark blue. She was thin and as near as John could tell, tall too.

"I have my father's eyes." Sherlock commented. John smiled.

"You look just like her."

"Are you saying I'm beautiful John?" Sherlock attempted to joke.

"Yes you are you mad man." John joked back. Sherlock gave a small chuckle.

"Is she the reason you have a hard time sleeping at night?" Sherlock nodded. "What happened?"

"They told me she had just gone to sleep. And then they buried her. Mycroft had nightmares. I just chose not to sleep at all. I'm sure they told Mycroft the truth, he was fourteen after all. I would spend the night with him watching over him as he slept so that the nightmares didn't come."

"That's got be hard. Having the little brother looking out for you like that. Is that when he started to pull away from you?"

Sherlock looked at him, shocked. "I never thought of it but I suppose it is."

They were quiet for a time, lost in their thoughts.

"Sherlock?" John asked breaking the silence.

"Hmm..." Sherlock said looking up.

John blushed. "Would like to sleep in my bed tonight? If it'll make you feel better I mean."

Sherlock smiled warmly at his friend. "Thank you, John."

Sherlock crawled into bed first and John followed suit. They lay with their backs next to each other and fell asleep content in their friendship.


	14. A Blue Christmas

**A/N: I'm sorry it took so long to get up but I really didn't want to write it. But it's up and the warning is lots of angst at the end. And this is also your heads up for the next chapter: it gets worse before it gets better. **

* * *

John spent the first couple days of his vacation running around like a mad man. First he made sure all the public rooms were clean. The kitchen, the dinning room, the living room, the bathroom all spotless. His bedroom even more so. His parents watched in shock as their son ran around making sure everything was perfect.

John rushed to do a load of sheets when his mother stopped him.

"John dear, I love you but you have to stop. If this house gets anymore clean it can be used for your father's surgery."

John blushed. "I just want everything perfect. Sherlock comes from a rich family, I don't want him to think we're slobs."

Mrs. Watson pulled her son into a hug. "I'm sure he's not expecting perfection, John. I think he'll just be excited that you went to all this effort for him." John hugged his mother back.

"Thanks mum."

As John dashed off Mr. Watson came up behind his wife. "If I didn't know about the girlfriend, I would have sworn our son was preparing for someone more special than just a good friend."

Mrs. Watson chuckled. "You noticed that too?" If Henry had noticed, than John was being practically transparent.

"Well, maybe this Sherlock is special to our John. Just not the way, we'd expect with a lesbian daughter."

Mrs. Watson nodded. This Sherlock must be something special. They were of course warned about his 'trick' with deducing people's life stories from their tie, their thumb, and their hair cut. And while John had gotten Sherlock to promise to keep the less savory things to himself, he knew well enough that sometimes Sherlock spoke without thinking.

He rung his hands nervously while he waited for his friend to arrive.

* * *

Sherlock spent Christmas eve with his father and brother. Which consisted of dinner and after dinner drinks. Which was eggnog only his was sans the rum that flavored his brother and father's drinks. He didn't care much for the rum anyway so it was no great lost to him.

He shifted nervously in his seat after dinner under the gaze of his brother. Mycroft seemed to sense something was going on while their father smoked his pipe and read the paper. When the clock hit seven, their butler, Cartwright showed up at his elbow with the two presents John helped him wrap and since it was two boys struggling with wrapping paper and tape, they looked a bit of a disaster. But Sherlock was proud anyway.

They were both small boxes and the lighter of the two was given to his father. He looked up at his youngest son in curiosity before putting down his paper to open his present. Inside was jeweled tie pin. Mr. Holmes looked up at his son with astonishment written on his features. He muttered a thank you and then got up. His sons watched as he scrambled to get away.

Sherlock looked at Mycroft, tears welling up. "Did-did I do something wrong?" he asked, choking back tears.

"No, no, Sherlock of course not. You just surprised him. He loved it, I'm sure." Sherlock looked at the door that was left open in his father's escape. He nodded.

"May I open mine now?" Mycroft asked. Again Sherlock nodded. Mycroft opened the small, heavy box and gasped when he saw what was inside. There nestled in black velvet was a silver antique pocket watch.

"Open it," Sherlock pleaded and his brother complied. Inside was the inscription, _To my brother _and the date.

"Sherlock, it's beautiful." Mycroft brought his hand to his mouth. "I-I didn't get you anything."

"You don't have to, My. You forced me to go back to Westminster this year and if you hadn't, I wouldn't have met John and I-" Sherlock choked up, he forced back his tears. "And I can't thank you enough for that." Mycroft put the package down and stood up. He walked over to Sherlock and pulled him to his feet. Sherlock wrapped his arms around him and Mycroft hugged him back.

"Happy Christmas, My."

"Happy Christmas, brother mine."

Early the next morning Sherlock rode with his brother to John's house.

"You know you don't have to come with me. I know you've already met John."

"And what gave that idea, little brother?"

"Because this you, My. I'm pretty sure you've met all my friends at this point. Victor and Greg you met early on but you waited on John. Probably doing a deeper background check."

Mycroft laughed. "Guilty as charged." Sherlock smiled back.

"What if I told you wanted to meet his family?" Mycroft inquired. Sherlock shrugged.

They reached the house and John came bounding out to greet them. He looked at Sherlock and then back to Mycroft unsure what to say.

"Our secret's out, John. He knows we've met." John just grinned.

"Of course he does, he's Sherlock after all." John said his friend's name like it was synonymous with brilliant. Mycroft chuckled as he watched his little brother turn pink around the ears.

"Come in and meet my family." John said, grabbing his friend's arm and dragging him inside, Mycroft followed behind at a much slower pace, a secret smile on his face.

* * *

John led the way inside to where his family sat waiting for John's friend to arrive.

"That's my dad, Dr. Henry Watson, my mum Liona and my sister, Harry." Harry just waved at the posh gentlemen that walked through her door, clearly intimidated by their superior dress and manners but her parents surged forward to take their hands. "This is Sherlock and his older brother Mycroft."

"Pleased to meet you all. I have to go, they made the company Christmas party mandatory this year."

John's parents exchanged a glance. "Where do you work?" Mr. Watson asked as he shook hands again.

Mycroft smiled, "The foreign office." They both looked surprised.

"Wow, so young too." Mrs. Watson gushed. Mycroft smiled and Sherlock smirked.

"Will you be alright, Sherlock?" Mycroft asked.

"I'll be fine. I'll call you if I forgot anything." Mycroft smiled and then said his goodbyes to John's family. John walked him out leaving Sherlock alone with his family for a moment.

"Thanks for bringing him Mycroft." John smiled up at the older Holmes boy.

"My pleasure John. Happy Christmas."

"Happy Christmas." John rushed back in, just in time to see Sherlock 'deduce' his father's military service from his tie.

"Sherlock..." John groaned. His best friend just flashed him a grin. "Come on you mad man, you'll be staying in my room with me." John said pulling him aside and away from his startled family. Sherlock laughed.

"You know, if you keep calling me that, your family is going to wonder just who they let into their house," Sherlock chuckled just as they reached out of ear shot.

"Nah!" John replied. "I told them you were mad _before _you came over." John winked and opened the door to his room. Sherlock was immediately struck by how like John it was. It was filled with army men and books on famous battles, it had a black gladstone bag in the corner and anatomy books sprawled over his desk. Above his bed was a poster of a metal encased man.

"Oh that's War Machine. He's my favorite super hero. He's a military man. But isn't shackled with the unfortunate monicker Capt. America. I mean Captain Britain is alright but he's got magic and stuff. War Machine's just a man in a mechanical suit protecting people. I like that." John blushed when he realized he was babbling.

Sherlock just smiled.

"So my family did presents already... when did you want yours?" Sherlock dug into his bag and pulled out his present for John.

"Now works." Sherlock grinned. John pointed to his desk where Sherlock's present sat still in it's shiny silver package. John was practically bouncing.

"You open yours first." John pressed. Sherlock flopped down on the bed next to him and began to open the gift. Inside was small rectangular leather pouch. Sherlock frowned as he opened it. His confusion cleared away when he saw it was a small magnifying glass that could be slid open to be used at two different magnifications.

"Oh, John. It's marvelous." Sherlock breathed. It wasn't as expensive as the other gifts he got but it was infinitely more special.

"I didn't want you opening it in front of our friends. I didn't think they'd understand why." John explained.

"You just don't want them to get in on the fun too." Sherlock winked and then laughed when John blushed. He'd hit the nail on the head.

"It's okay, John. Open yours. It'll make you feel better. I promise." John opened the present and gasped.

"It's incredible. I asked my parents for this one but they couldn't afford it. Thank you!" Sherlock squeaked when John hugged him.

"You're welcome."

"You hungry? My mom's got homemade scones left over from breakfast."

"Nah, I'm fine. I can wait until dinner." John raised a questioning eyebrow. "Mycroft made sure I had breakfast this morning."

John laughed. That sounded just like the elder Holmes.

Sherlock looked sheepish all of a sudden. "Um... John is it okay... if Victor calls me tonight...?"

John laughed again. "Sure. Is he calling a specific time?"

Sherlock nodded. "Seven." John smiled and pulled out his phone he texted a quick message.

_As expected, Victor calling S tonight, you can call me then. Talk to you at 7 -JW_

Sherlock eyed him as he did this. "Mary wanted to call me to and I figured she could do it while you were talking to Victor so the one didn't have to watch the other make silly faces and say funny pet names over the phone."

Sherlock laughed.

"Well then!" He laughed again.

Dinner was a pleasant affair with his parents only asking mildly embarrassing questions of Sherlock. Harry watched them with this funny expression on her face. John would have to ask her about it later.

Seven o'clock rolled around and the two boys looked at their phones nervously. They went off at the same time. From Sherlock's pocket rang out Violin Romance by Beethoven, from John's hand rang out Crossfire by Brandon Flowers. They smiled at each other and wandered off to their corners to talk.

"Hey sweetie." John purred into his phone.

* * *

"Victor? What's wrong?"

_"You can't come on New Years."_

"Why not? Did something come up?" Sherlock asked worriedly.

_"Someone told my dad I was gay."_

"Oh my god are you okay?" Sherlock was starting to get even more worried.

_"No. He- he-"_ Victor started to sob.

"Victor?"

_"He hit me and said that no son of his was gay."_

"God! I'm coming to get you, you can stay with John and I. I'm sure he'd agree."

_"No. He said that I wasn't to see you ever again and that if you come near me, he'll call the cops."_

"No." Sherlock sank to his knees. "God, no. Victor... I can't... no..." Sherlock passed out.

"Mary. I have to call you back. Sherlock just collapsed. I'll let you know later."

_"Oh, god. Sure."_

John hung up and ran over to his friend. He called for his dad who came rushing in.

"What happened?" Mr. Watson asked as he came dashing in.

"I don't know we both got calls from our significant others. Hold on." John picked up Sherlock's phone and listened.

All he could hear on the other end was painful sobbing.


	15. For Whom the Bell Tolls

**A/N: Angst warning again. Plus a swearing warning. John gets a little cuss-y there when talking to Mycroft. I just had to get this one out before I couldn't. I hated doing it but needs must again. You'll understand later. Thanks for all the views, follows, and favorites. And of course reviews are always loved. I'd say enjoy but... well... let's just say I hope it's good.**

* * *

John watched his father carefully as he administered to his friend. He had gotten the story from Victor and it broke his heart.

"John come help me put him on your bed." His father ordered and John hastened to comply. As his father lifted Sherlock, he blinked.

"Maybe I don't need your help, John, after all. Does this boy ever eat?"

"Bane of my existence, dad, is trying to get him to eat. Something. Anything." John whined as he helped his dad carefully lay Sherlock on the bed.

"Silly git." His dad agreed.

"Um... I should call, Mycroft..." John murmured.

"That'd be a good idea, honey. Me and your dad will watch over him and let you know when he wakes." his mother told him as she gently nudged him toward the hall.

John sighed and with a single backwards glance at his friend he went to the hall to call Mycroft. He flipped through Sherlock's contacts and chuckled at the names. Mouse, he assumed was Molly. DI must be Greg. He must have had a lot of faith in Greg to give him that one. There was a Wolfgang, which John assumed was Victor though why John couldn't figure. And then there was a Janus. He clicked on it and it came up his number. He did a search on his phone was a little surprised to find that he was the two headed god of Roman mythos. Did Sherlock think he was two faced? A liar? No that didn't fit. He read further to find that he was the god of beginnings and transitions. And well, he'd be damned if that didn't fit what he done with Sherlock. The final entry was archenemy, which must have been his brother.

He chuckled and imported the number into his phone and made the call.

"Hello?" came the smooth voice on the other end.

"Mycroft, it's John."

"Hello, John. How did you get my number?"

"I got it off Sherlock's phone." he admitted.

"And he let you touch his phone?" Mycroft asked incredulously.

"Not exactly..." John hedged.

"John... what happened?"

John sighed. "It's a bit of a clusterfuck, really. Some jackass told Victor's apparently homophobic dad that Victor was not only gay but dating Sherlock. According to Victor, he's forbidden Victor from seeing Sherlock and he put a restraining order against Sherlock. If he comes near Victor the cops get called. Well, you know brother... when he heard this he passed out. My dad's taking care of him. He's good at what he does, Sherlock will be fine."

"I have no doubt about that, John. Would you mind if stays there the whole vacation?"

"I'll have to ask mum and dad but I don't think they'll have a problem with it, why?"

"He's going to need you during this time. I think separating you two right now would be disastrous to his mind."

"I can see that, yeah. I'm sure if I explain that to my parents they'll be more than happy to have him stay."

"Will that be all John?"

"I don't usually condone this sort of thing... but Mycroft..."

"Say no more, John. It'll be taken care of. Have no doubt. Just one more thing from me, John."

"Yeah?"

"I don't care what name you use, but don't use my real name in your contacts please. This is a secure line and it could cause trouble in the wrong hands."

"Oh. Um. Wow. Okay, sure." John blinked. His mother appeared at the door and he held up a finger, she nodded and went back inside. "He's awake now. I've got to go."

"Please keep me informed, John."

"Will do." John hung up and went back into his room. Sherlock's pale skin was practically translucent.

"How is he dad?" John asked as he saw the bags under his friend's eyes.

"He's fine. He just a bit of shock. We'll talk in a bit okay?" John nodded as his parents left the room.

"Hey, mate..." John inquired as he sat on the bed next to his friend's pale form.

"Hey," Sherlock muttered. "I didn't mean to ruin your Christmas." Sherlock whispered.

"What? No! You didn't!" Sherlock had a look dubiousness on his face. "Look, I know this came as shock, and when I find the bastard that told Mr. Trevor about you and Victor, I will kick his ass so far into next week."

Sherlock chuckled weakly.

"But listen okay? I'm here for you. And you are staying here until we go back to school. Mycroft will send over somethings for you."

"Does Mycroft know my troubles?" Sherlock asked.

"So you have been reading it then?" John chuckled.

"Of course John. I'll delete after I don't need it anymore but stop avoiding the question."

"Yeah. Of course. He had to be told Sherlock. It would be like you not calling my parents if something like this happened to me." Sherlock groaned.

"John..."

"No. It's okay. He's not going to meddle, alright? I promise." _Well... he's not going meddle in your love life per se. He's just going to mess with Mr. Trevor a bit. I just hope he doesn't hurt Victor in the process._ John thought as looked down at his friend.

"He always meddles, John. You can't stop it."

"I suppose not but doesn't a part of you want revenge against Mr. Trevor?" John asked him honestly.

Sherlock blinked. "Not if it hurt Victor, too."

"Agreed. And your brother is a smart enough man to realize that."

Sherlock scoffed.

"Come on man, let's get some tea in you. Tea makes everything better."

"Earl Grey?" Sherlock inquired as he struggled to get up. John helped him to his feet.

"My mum's favorite."

"Smart woman." Sherlock muttered as he let John help him to the kitchen. The best part about being poor is that their house only had one level. No stairs for Sherlock to struggle with.

"How do you take your tea, Sherlock?" Mrs. Watson asked as removed the tea bag from a cup.

"Just two sugars, please." Sherlock replied as John sat him down.

"She'll take care of you, I'm going to go to talk to my dad." John told him and ruffled his hair before he walked off.

Mrs. Watson turned to the dark haired boy at her table and set the cup in front of him.

"My son thinks the world of you, you know?" She said as she crossed her arms in front of her chest.

Sherlock looked down at the cup as he wrapped his hands around the warm object. "I think the world of him too." Sherlock sighed. "I've never met anyone like him. He's like a walking contradiction. Built like a brick house but really sweet and friendly. Wants to be a doctor to save lives but also wants to join the army where he'd have to hurt people. Likes quiet afternoons in the park but craves adventure. He's a mystery wrapped in an enigma. I never get tired of learning new things about your son."

Mrs. Watson laughed. "I don't think I've ever heard him described that way but you're right of course." She watched Sherlock drink his tea for a bit. "Will you watch over him for us? He seems tough on the outside but he's soft on the inside."

Sherlock laughed. "He usually the one taking care of me. Making sure I eat and sleep. He fought a bully for me because I couldn't. They broke my ribs."

"That's my John. But he's use to taking on too much, just be there for him as he's here for you now."

"Is there something you aren't telling me?" Sherlock asked.

She laughed. "No, no. I just know being a teenage boy isn't the easiest thing in the world. Just be there for each other, alright?" Sherlock nodded.

Just then Dr. Watson and John walked through the door. Dr. Watson came up to his wife and kissed her on the cheek.

"Looks like our house guest is staying a bit longer than planned." He explained and then winked at Sherlock.

"Oh good, I thought I was going to have to twist your arm into letting him stay as long as he needed." Mrs. Watson smiled.

"Nah, doctor's orders." Dr. Watson winked at her as he filled his own cup with hot water over his tea bag.

John beamed at all three of them, amused at how easy it was to have Sherlock stay the whole holiday. The next morning a car came with everything Sherlock would need for the next couple weeks plus his school things.

John grinned about that one.

"This means we get to ride the train together. It'll be like Harry Potter." Sherlock just shook his head at his friend's enthusiasm.

New Years eve had been fun, as John got to introduce both Sherlock and Mary to his hometown friends. He was pleased to see Mike and Sarah together. It made the party that more enjoyable. He was also pleased to see Sherlock get along them as well. At first dismissed them like he does everyone but once they proved their intelligence, Sherlock warmed up to them very quickly.

There had been a moment when Sarah had asked about if he had a girlfriend that could have turned bad but Sherlock just waved it off. He never answered her directly but John made sure later to let her know what had gone on, on Christmas. She apologized over and over again. John waved it off, there was no way she could have known.

The train back was subdued. Sherlock looked as though he couldn't bare the thought of returning to Westminster without Victor.

It appeared that Greg had heard about what happened and him and Molly were very supportive. They fielded questions about Victor so Sherlock wouldn't have to. Sherlock was grateful. John did notice a change however. Out of probation and Victor gone, Sherlock's mouth took on a life of its own.

Anderson bore the brunt of this verbal attack. Not that John cared one way or another about Anderson, it was still a shock to see Sherlock behave the way everyone told him he did.

It got really bad when Greg told him that Victor had been shipped off to one of those schools where they try and brainwash you into thinking you were straight. Sherlock started to really lash out than. John got so worried, he hauled him into see Mrs. Hudson, see if she could get him to calm down.

But the final nail in the coffin came a month later. The hammer fell and it shattered what was left of Sherlock's heart. It would take a miracle to put it back together again.

Greg hadn't even been called, he found out the same way Sherlock and John had.

Victor's obituary in the paper. It merely said:

_Victor Trevor, son of Chief Superintendent Graeme Trevor and his wife Ailsa was found dead in the dorm room of St. Benedict's School for Boys, having chosen to take his own life. He was well liked and great rider. He will be missed._

Followed by the funeral information. John could understand why Sherlock hadn't been told but Greg? Greg was Victor's best friend and straight. There was no reason for this. It really bothered John. He could only imagine how Sherlock must have felt. Sherlock was practically catatonic. He wouldn't eat or get up for class. He got the nurse in to give him a note to miss classes.

John finally got him roused up for the funeral. John didn't care if Mr. Trevor would be upset, Sherlock had every right to be there. In fact John got a bunch of Victor's friends at Westminster and got them all to go with them. There was the five of them and then Victor's riding mates and other school friends.

They stood a sea of black with yellow and purple arm bands. Yellow for suicide prevention and purple for gay rights. Victor's father was too lost in his own grief to notice them but his mother did and she flashed them a grateful smile.

After the funeral she put her husband in the car and came over to them. She handed each one of them a white flower to place on the casket and silently thanked them for their support.

One by one they placed their flowers until it was just Sherlock. He looked down at the flower. He untied his arm band and wrapped it delicately around the flower and placed it on the casket.

"I'll miss you, love." He kissed his fingers and then pressed his fingers to the casket before John led him away.


	16. The Reveal

**A/N: Just an epilogue to go and we're done. I hope I did it okay. I hope you all enjoyed the story. I just needed to get it done before November, so I could attempt nanowrimo for the first time. And yes it'll be a Sherlock story. Have no fear.**

Also I will write a sequel to this come December. And if you follow Magic and Mischief as well, I'm working on it. I'm going through and fixing my mistakes and then I will write a brand new chapter for you. And I will keep working on it during nanowrimo. Never fear.

And I realized that the ending really didn't make up for the angst of the last couple chapters and the epilogue is angsty too. I'm sorry. The next one will be happier I promise. A whole lot happier in fact, if any of you are familiar with the canon story "The Three Garridebs" that will be the next one. And the case will happen quicker with bucketfuls of fluff after. Which means it'll probably be shorter. And then there will be a third one based on "The Scandal in Bohemia". Which will tie up all the stories and reveal what's been going on behind the scenes.

* * *

Sherlock wandered around the school like a lost soul. He was quiet in class and did his homework. He was still the brightest in the school. There was nothing and no one that could keep that giant brain of his from moving forward. His heart on the other hand was another matter entirely. It broke John's heart to watch the greatest heart tear itself to pieces. But there was nothing he could say that would make it better. Even John wasn't that stupid.

Sherlock refused any and all attempts to get him out of the room. Not even John could rouse him from his dark stupor. Not even attempts to get him to look at the case would peak his interest. It seemed to everyone, including those that bullied him that he was heartbroken.

John hated to see him this way. Valentine's day was the worst. Sherlock glared at him as he got ready for his date with Mary. He eyed the snow globe and picked it up. John's eyes grew wide and stepped his direction.

"Sherlock, you really don't want to do that, mate." John took another step closer as Sherlock picked it up in his hand.

"Why?" Sherlock hefted it a bit, testing its weight. "It's pure sentiment. What use have I for such things?" His voice was cold.

"Because it's more than sentiment Sherlock. It's a physical representation of the promise you made to your mother."

"Why would she care? She's dead. She can't see me keep it or break it." John took another step forward.

"Yes, but you'd know." John reasoned. "And you have always been a man of your word."

"Maybe it was something that I can't keep." Sherlock stubbornly replied. John took another step forward. He was nearly within arms reach.

"If you thought that, you wouldn't have made the promise, Sherlock." John took another step forward. "Come on, mate. Tell me what you promised her."

"You know. I've told you." His eyes were still on the snow globe.

"Yes, but you need to say it out loud." John took the final step forward and placed his hand over the top of the snow globe. Sherlock looked up shocked that John was so close.

"I promised her that I would graduate from school with top honors and enter Cambridge."

"And why do you think you can't keep that promise? You are still acing all your classes."

"Because... because... when I think of him... my mind seizes up and my heart stops and I can't breath. I don't feel like living anymore."

John took the snow globe from him and set it back down on the desk. "You are more than this, Sherlock. I can't imagine what it must be like for you. I'm sorry you are hurting. It kills me to watch it eat you up inside. I know there is nothing I can say that will help either. I've never experienced death the way you have. I've never had someone close to me die and here you stand having not one but two. But you have to live. Live for me. Live for your friends. Live to annoy the hell out of Mycroft." That last one got a chuckle out of him.

"I think I can do that."

"Good. Do you need me to stay with you tonight? Mary and I could go out another time."

"No, John. Go. I'll be fine. If I need anything, I'll annoy Mycroft." John chuckled.

"See that you do." John looked back Sherlock once before heading out. He had pulled out the riding crop and was running it through his fingers fondly.

That night John came home late, happy and glad to find that Sherlock had fallen asleep. He looked closer to see that his friend was cradling the riding crop to his chest. John smiled tenderly at his friend. He gently pulled it from Sherlock's grasp and set it on the desk. He looked at the forgotten case file with a tinge of regret. John wished he could get Sherlock interested again but nothing seemed to work, not even imploring him to do it for Victor dented his disregard.

The next morning Sherlock awoke with a start, flailing his arms and gasping for breath. In his flailing he knocked over the riding crop and it took the case file with it, knocking everything to floor and scattering. Sherlock cursed and John peaked out of the bathroom to see what was wrong. Seeing the mess John quickly finished brushing his teeth and rushed to help him.

He had picked up most of it when he saw a stray photo peaking out from under his bed. He picked up and looked at with a frown.

"Sherlock, have you seen this?" John inquired.

"I've seen them all, John." Sherlock grumbled.

"You sure?" John handed it to him. "Tell me what you see." Sherlock looked at the picture of Silver Blazes hoof prints. He shrugged.

"It's just hoof prints, John."

John rolled his eyes. "There are TWO sets, Sherlock." Sherlock looked at it again. There was a set leading to the crime scene and another set leading back to the stable.

"Oh, that's clever." Sherlock muttered. "Is it clever? Why is it clever?" His eyes went wide. "That's it! That's the final piece. I know who did and why. I know how and more importantly I know where Silver Blaze is!" His blue-grey eyes were alight for the first time since Victor died. John smiled. "Call Mycroft, tell him to get Mrs. Hudson, Inspector Dimmock, Mr. Millerton, and Graeme Trevor all together at the paddock in an hour! I solved the case!" And with that he dashed off.

John called Mycroft and the elder Holmes chuckled.

"Took him long enough," came the snide remark on the other.

"Well, excuse him for being a fifteen year old boy going through emotional hell." John shot back.

Mycroft chuckled again. "The ever loyal best friend. But honestly, didn't you think that he should have solved it before now?"

John thought about it. "Yeah. Yeah, he should have."

"And why didn't he?" Mycroft pressed.

"Because he was too proud to admit that I recognized a clue before he did."

"And that my dear John, is hubris. Something of a family trait I'm afraid."

"Right."

"It's already being setup. Sherlock will have his show. He does love to be dramatic."

"Also something of family trait." John smirked.

"Alas, too true." And he hung up.

John showed up to the paddock to see the dean, assistant headmaster, the inspector, and Victor's father standing around the outside of the fence with Sherlock standing in the middle, looking like a ring master at a circus, his dark coat billowing in the breeze. John's breath caught in his chest. This was the Sherlock he knew and loved.

"There are several crimes that occurred that night. Murder, blackmail, attempted sabotage, and insurance fraud. Let's start with the murder shall we? It's what most people find the most interesting. We know that Master Jenkins took Silver Blaze out of his stall and took him far away from prying ears and eyes to the forest that surrounds a beloved school and there he was murdered.

"Now, why was he murdered? Let's put that on hold for a moment and move to the attempted sabotage. According to John and later confirmed by John's father, who is a military doctor, that the knife that was found, wasn't a knife at all. It was a scalpel. One especially used for cutting in to large areas of flesh. Now why would he have that with him? As stable master, he is also a veterinarian so he had access to surgical tools. As far as anyone was aware, Silver Blaze was in good health and why would he take the horse to some place so unsanitary to do a surgery? He wouldn't but then it wasn't surgery, it was sabotage. He was going to hamstring Silver Blaze."

They all gasped. Inspector Dimmock raised his hand. "Why would he do that?"

"Because he was being blackmailed. Someone had learned that he was doping the horses. Not all of them, only one or two of them and as the horses were in competition it would be illegal and could get his license revoked. So someone told him that if he did this thing to Silver Blaze he would make sure that the board would never find out about his little indiscretion."

"So who killed him? The blackmailer, after Jenkins failed?" Mr. Millerton asked.

"No. Silver Blaze did." There were gasps and mutterings. Sherlock merely waited them out. "The bash to the back of the head was done by hoof." A man with a horse came out to demonstrate what happened. He grasped the back hoof his back facing the horse. The horse jerked and the man fell forward but rolled out of the way just as the horse lashed out with the same hoof.

"Unfortunately for Master Jenkins he didn't roll away and was struck in the back of the head by Silver Blaze, killing him outright." The man left the horse there and went back to the stables.

"So where did the horse go?" Inspector Dimmock asked as he tugged on his uniform.

"Would like to tell them Mr. Millerton? Or shall I?" The man came back with a bucket of soapy water. Sherlock took the bucket from him and pulled back with it.

"No!" Mr. Millerton called out only too late. The water splashed on the horse's face revealing a silver blaze were there was none before.

"And that's were the insurance fraud comes in. Mr. Millerton was out doing his rounds when he found Silver Blaze wandering around. He wasn't aware that Master Jenkins lay near the woods dead. He knew that Silver Blaze was insured for several thousand pounds and the school board wanted to put in a new stable but Headmaster Gregson kept deny it saying it would be too expensive. What he didn't tell Mr. Millerton was that my father gave the school £1,000,000 to do just that. And well to keep me at the school." Sherlock tilted his head to the side with a smirk on his face. "It was suppose to be a surprise. A big reveal at the end of the year."

"So we have the murder, the defrauder, and the attempted saboteur. All that is left is the person that started this all. And since I'll be accused of slander and trying to get revenge, I'm going to have my brother bring forth the evidence." Sherlock stepped to the side and came to stand next to John. John whispered his "Brilliant!" and clasped his friend's shoulder.

Mycroft came out twirling his umbrella. In his hand was a file. John looked over to see Mr. Trevor turn purple with rage.

"As is often the case," Mycroft began. "Criminals think that they are clever. Far cleverer than those around them. Superintendent Trevor handed my brother this file," he held it up for all to see, "in was most of the case information. I say most because there was one crucial bit of information kept back. One that he even kept back from his own inspector. That of doping Leroy Jenkins was involved in.

"It would have led to motive and they would have looked elsewhere but he didn't want someone clever to trace it back to him. But Sherlock knew Jenkins was doping the horse but never his, so it didn't concern him. He knew he would win without it, why would he care if someone else cheated? So when he noticed the discrepancy he had me look into it. And then everything went to hell and he became distracted. Then this morning he called me for the final proof."

He looked right at Mr. Trevor. "You messed with the wrong family, Mr. Trevor. We Holmes know how to hold a grudge." Mr. Trevor snarled and leaped over the fence to attempt to strangle Sherlock. Everyone gasped but John leaped over the fence and with the motion to leap over the fence he kicked Mr. Trevor for all it was worth and the man crumpled to the ground.

On the ground Mr. Trevor was muttering, "It's all your fault. My boy should have been the champion not you. You made him gay. You killed him! I hate you!" John jumped down next to him.

"You dumb ass. Even I could tell Victor was a better horseman than Sherlock. He was just happy to be riding. He never liked to compete. And no one _turns_ gay. Victor had been pining for Sherlock for over a year. They were perfect for each other. But no... you had to ruin it. Always forcing your son to do what _you_ wanted. That's what killed him. You couldn't let him be himself. Well now you get to go to jail and think about what you did to your son in the name of _might make right_."

He turned to his best friend. "Let's go Sherlock."


	17. Epilogue: A Burnt Heart

**A/N: And this is the end. For now. I will write a sequel and make all the Johnlock fans especially happy. And the next one is pretty angst free. Though the way my muse is going, I don't think I can guarantee that. See you in December for the Case of the Three Garridebs re-imagined as the Three Guillams (hey if Steven and Mark can do it than so can I, lol).**

* * *

Mr. Millerton and Trevor were arrested. Last Sherlock heard was that Mrs. Trevor was divorcing her husband and suing him for what he did their son. They got a new assistant headmaster one Alec MacDonald, an old friend of the headmaster.

The rest of the year was quiet and calm. Sherlock described it as hateful. John was grateful. Mary and he fell into a pattern, moving in sync. When Sherlock had dark days, or as Mycroft called them 'danger nights', John would stay with his roommate and distract him and Mary would hang out with Molly. The side effect of this, however was that it sometimes drove Greg into their room for company. They never gave him a new roommate and sometimes the silence drove him to seek out whatever company he could find.

Most nights they would just talk as they learned the hard way that you couldn't play games with Sherlock Holmes. It wasn't that he cheated, exactly but you couldn't hide anything from him and it made playing anything but games of chance, nearly impossible and of course they refused to speak of the Cluedo incident. Sherlock still maintained that it was Dr. Black. John and Greg insisted that it was impossible for the victim to have done it.

Summer vacation came and John was excited, he was going to spend a couple weeks at Sherlock's with only Mycroft as chaperone. Sherlock assured him that with Mycroft working it wouldn't be much of a baby-sitter. The only watch words were no drinking and no setting the house on fire. John laughed when he heard that. He could live with those rules.

But first he was he was going to spend the day with Mary. They had the whole day planned. A picnic, a walk around the park, dinner and a movie. He was super excited. That morning his sister decided that she wanted to dye her bubblegum pink, get a nose ring and a dragon tattooed on her ass. So he was late getting out the house. He tried calling her but it went straight to voicemail. He kept trying as he took the train to her neighborhood but each time it went to voicemail.

By this time John had started to panic. He called Sherlock.

"Hey, Sherlock."

"Oh, hey John. What's up? I thought you were hanging out with Mary today." His best friend droned, sleepily.

"I was but I've been calling her all morning and she hasn't answered."

"Oh. That's not good. What do you need?" Sherlock immediately picked up on the distress in John's voice.

"It might be nothing but could you meet me at the station?"

"And if it _is_ nothing, I'll have wasted a trip." Sherlock complained.

"I'll buy your ticket back, I promise." John was starting to get desperate.

"I'll have Huston drive me there. Give me the name of the station and I'll make sure to meet you as soon as I can."

"Thanks Sherlock. I hope you're right and I'm just being stupid about the whole thing."

"You're never stupid, John. You've got good instincts, trust them."

John murmured his agreement and then rung off. He fiddled with his phone. He had left several messages and sent so many texts but the constant lack of response made John twitchy. His hand began to shake and knee bounced up and down.

Just as the train was pulling into the station his phone beeped. He jumped and quickly checked it.

_I'm here John -SH_

It wasn't the response he had been hoping for but it was close enough. Just having Sherlock solidly by his side would help him weather whatever storm was coming his way. And he could feel it brewing. It was a burning in the pit of his stomach, a twisting feeling. He couldn't shake it.

He stepped off the train and saw the tall dark-haired youth waiting. John hurried over.

"Oh, thanks, Sherlock. I really appreciate this. I owe you one. A big one." John breathed.

"You don't owe me anything, John. If anything I've barely made a dent in what I owe you. This," he waved his hand, "this is nothing. A mere drop in the bucket." John chuckled at the reference to their first case and Sherlock smiled, letting his friend know it was deliberate.

"Lead the way!" Sherlock declared imperiously. John laughed and lead the way out of the station. He'd visited Mary before during spring break and knew the way. Sherlock followed behind, strangely feeling a similar sense of dread.

Their fears were confirmed when smoke billowed up from where Mary's house should have been. John looked back at Sherlock and they both broke into a run. As they neared the house, they could clearly see the blacken shell of what use to be the Morstan residence.

A fire marshal saw them and called them to a halt.

"Hey where do you think you two are going?"

"Is she okay? Is she alright?" John asked, panic over taking his reason

"Is who okay?" The marshal asked.

"You'll excuse my friend, we are school friends of the girl who lives here."

"She was my girlfriend!" John protested.

The fire marshal ran a hand over his face, his face as ashen as the burnt out husk behind him.

"Oh, man. I'm sorry, kid. No one in the house survived." And then both he and Sherlock rushed to John's side as he crumpled to ground. He began wailing 'no' over and over.

"Is he okay?" the marshal asked Sherlock.

"No. They were the perfect couple. They moved in sync, finished each others sentences, cute without being forceful or disgusting about it. You would have never met a closer couple than John and Mary." John broke down into incoherent sobs.

"Wow. Does he need a doctor or something?" the marshal asked.

Sherlock shook his head. "His dad is a doctor. I'll just take him home." The marshal nodded and moved back over to his companions, no doubt telling them about the boy and his heartbreak.

Sherlock called Huston back and knelt on the ground next to John. He put his arms around John's shoulders and began to rock him back and forth.

"Shh... John. I'm here. I'm here for you." John grabbed the lapels of Sherlock's coat and held on for dear life. Sherlock buried his face into his friends hair and continued to hold on as if John's life depended on it.

He sent a text to Mycroft explaining what happened and that John would becoming over a day early.

_I will take care of everything -M_

_Thank you, My -SH_

He looked down at his friend and wondered if this is what he looked like to John when Victor broke it off. _If wishes came true and there were such things as miracles, I would wish that this had never happened to you. You deserve happiness in a way I can never have. This was never suppose to happen to you._

The car pulled up and Sherlock nudged John. "The car is here. Come on. We'll get you home and get you things. You'll be staying with me."

John just nodded and struggled to stand and was finally able to with Sherlock's help. The drive home was silent as John lay on Sherlock's lap, weeping into his coat. Sherlock kept a light hand on friend's shoulder the whole ride, just to let John know he was there.

The summer had started with a bright future and ended with a burned husk of a boy who had never truly known hardship and two broken hearts beating in time with each other.


End file.
